The Hopes and Fears
by Deb3
Summary: A CSI:Miami Christmas story. 7th in the Fearful Symmetry series. Family, horses, and crime all come together at Christmas for the team.
1. Default Chapter

Here's part one of the next installment in the Fearful Symmetry series. I doubt I'll have a chance to get part two written down until after the weekend.  
  
Title: The Hopes and Fears  
  
Rating: PG-13 (You know me. Violence as necessary for the plot, but not too much, and the more steamy romance is left to your imagination.)  
  
Pairing: H/C (Who else? Some have heard a sister-in-law squeaking in the background, but I think it's a mouse. One of the smaller rodents, anyway. Here, kitty, kitty!)  
  
Somewhat Unusual Disclaimer: I do not own CSIM or its characters. If I did, I'd move H/C along much faster. I have only borrowed them for fun, and no infringement is meant. Chrissy is a real character (in every sense of the phrase) but one I have secured rights to. She is depicted 100% accurately with the exception that she does not live in Florida. Lisa is an interesting blend of fact and fiction. She started out based on a real character but was tweaked pretty sharply as necessary for the plot. Call it about 50/50. Again, nothing has been manipulated here that I didn't have rights to manipulate. Neither of these two will sue me. The rest of the supporting cast, including Sam, are pure fiction. The crime is entirely fictitious (thankfully). The crime scene is also entirely fictitious (regretfully).  
  
Series Recap: In order, in case you haven't read them yet. The events in this fiction are based on my previous stories Fearful Symmetry, Can't Fight This Feeling, Gold Medals, Surprises, Honeymoon, and Blackout.  
  
A/N: I'm in my element here, more than I've ever been before on a CSIM story, which I'm sure you will realize pretty quickly, but beware of dismissing things as just irrelevant details. This story isn't a pure joyride on my part. There is a plot (and angst, and eventual happy ending, of course). This one is a totally different experiment for me, though. Hopefully, you will enjoy it. If not, no hard feelings, and just meet me at the next one. It's not like I'm trying to introduce new standing characters. Chrissy and Lisa are a one-time venture into CSIM, and they will retreat back to my world after this story, while the Fearful Symmetry series will continue with H/C as always. That said, enjoy this one.  
  
Definition: "Dressage: The execution by a trained horse of precision movements in response to barely perceptible signals from its rider." From Webster's Dictionary. The emphasis is on the second syllable. It rhymes with massage.  
  
***  
  
"The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee tonight."  
  
From "O Little Town of Bethlehem"  
  
***  
  
"I'll be home for Christmas," promised the radio. "You can plan on me. Please have . . ." The voice died in mid croon as Calleigh hit the switch. "Enough, already," she grumbled and returned with a scowl worthy of the Grinch to trying to unwind 10 feet of garland which had somehow tied itself into 20 feet of knot. Decorating CSI had been Alexx's idea, and Horatio, in a surge of satisfaction at the completion of a case and at life in general, had agreed. Alexx, of course, made it a "family activity." Delko was untangling lights on the layout table, skillfully investigating which worked and which needed new bulbs. Horatio was in his office sorting out ornaments from a box. Only Speed had given a disbelieving grunt and disappeared, making some comment about refusing to put jingle bells on his bike. "Come on," Delko had called after him, "wouldn't you rather do this than investigate crime scenes?" Speed turned back at the door. "No," he said flatly and vanished.  
  
Calleigh herself wished for some small crime to start off this morning instead of decorations. Not a murder or anything, just some little but intricate problem to immerse herself in besides the coming holiday. Something she actually had a chance at solving. There was altogether too much Christmas cheer in Miami, and they still had a week and a half left to go. She sighed. Abruptly, she felt Horatio's eyes on her and looked up from the lab. He was standing at the window wall of his office, head slightly tilted, looking at her like the glass was a microscope lens that let him see her better. As their eyes met, he gave a slight jerk of his head, and she sighed again, dropped her garland knot, and trudged up the stairs, for once going to him reluctantly.  
  
"I don't know why you let Alexx talk you into this," she complained as she entered his office. "We've never done it before."  
  
He closed the door gently after her, and her heart dropped slightly at the click. Caught! "Why shouldn't things be different this year?" His head was still slightly tilted, but he wasn't looking at her like a specimen anymore. She studied her husband in return, matching his loving, approving appraisal. He looked so much more relaxed than he used to, thin and pale as ever, but his stance easy, his sapphire eyes clear and calm. She smiled at him and gave him her best Southern drawl.  
  
"I probably shouldn't say it, but I'm good for you."  
  
"I'll say it then. You're good for me." He crossed to the chairs in front of his desk, running one hand slowly across her back as he passed her, drawing her along with him like a magnet. "You didn't answer my question, though."  
  
"What question?" She stalled. She should have known better. He didn't even bother repeating it, just held her in his steady gaze. "I guess there's no real reason we can't change things this year."  
  
"Exactly." He leaned forward slightly, covering her hands with his. "Calleigh, this year will be different. Special. They're my family now, too."  
  
She never could hide from him. She didn't even want to anymore, usually. "You don't know what Mother can be like," she started, then broke off, remembering that he had endured her mother at her worst the day of her father's funeral. "She'll just get drunk, and then she'll cry about Dad not being with us. And Peter's coming, and I've got a million things to take care of, and it still won't work out." It wasn't really the Christmas present as much as the Christmases past that haunted her. As long as she could remember, the holiday had been something to simply endure. She suddenly felt tears welling up in her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed them away gently.  
  
"Calleigh, have I ever lied to you?"  
  
She looked at him, startled. "Of course not."  
  
"So believe me now. This Christmas will be special, because it's our first one together. Nothing that happens can diminish that."  
  
Once again, pure adoration for this man swept over her like a flood, leaving her powerless, carrying her off with it. She leaned forward in her chair and wrapped both arms around him, resting her head on his chest, squeezing him tightly. "I believe you," she said, and at that moment, she did.  
  
He returned her hug wholeheartedly. "Now the first thing we need to do is schedule a celebration by ourselves. That's what Christmas is, after all. Celebrating the gift of love. So you and I need to have our own time. Let's see, we've got your family and Yelina and Ray Jr. over for dinner on Christmas itself, and Alexx has invited the whole team to her place for lunch on the 24th. Your family is flying in that afternoon, so that rules out that day. Shall we take the 23rd or the 26th?"  
  
"Both," she said instantly, looking up at him. He smiled, and she wondered again at how much it transformed his face, like throwing a light switch, changing his whole expression.  
  
"Right, we'll celebrate before they come and after they leave."  
  
"Especially after they leave."  
  
He was still smiling. "They're my family too now, remember? Whatever happens, you won't deal with it alone." His eyes went distant slightly, focusing in, and the smile faded. After a moment, he went on. "You know, Calleigh, I've really been looking forward to a different Christmas myself. I used to put off going home as long as I could on Christmas, work overtime, then walk the sidewalks until I was exhausted, because I knew I'd wind up back at an empty house."  
  
"Oh, Horatio." She covered his hands in turn. "I'm sorry, I hadn't even thought of what it's been like for you through the years. I was too busy remembering what it's been like for me."  
  
His eyes met hers directly, filled with understanding and determination over the sadness. "I just wanted you to know I understand where you're coming from. Not much happiness there. But this year, it will be different. I promise."  
  
"Yes, it will," she said, suddenly determined to make it so for him. He stood up, pulled her to her feet, and wrapped her in his arms. They were together. He was right. This Christmas would be different.  
  
"Sorry, guys." Speed opened the door, looking a bit self-conscious. "Hate to interrupt, but we've got a DB."  
  
Calleigh sighed and broke their embrace. "No peace on earth today, I guess."  
  
His eyes met hers, regretfully agreeing. "And no good will to men."  
  
They followed Speed from the office, but their arms were still touching unobtrusively as they walked, holding the connection, and somehow, the Christmas music blaring from the radios they passed didn't bother Calleigh as much anymore.  
  
***  
  
The Hummer wound its way through the traffic to the outskirts of Miami, finally turning off the road at a large sign that read "Erdenheim Stables: Dressage Lessons and Boarding." The fence-lined drive traveled between manicured pastures up to a huge barn. Horses dotted the fields. Horatio pulled the Hummer in alongside the squad car already there, and he, Calleigh, and Alexx got out as Speed and Delko in the second Hummer pulled alongside.  
  
"Pretty picturesque for a crime scene," said Calleigh, looking around at the white fences and the obviously irrigated grass.  
  
Delko whistled slightly as he got out. "How much money do you suppose is tied up in this place? A patch this size, this close to the city."  
  
"Lot more than we make," Speed concluded.  
  
"Let's get going, people," said Horatio. "Crime doesn't carry a price tag." He headed for the main door to the building, and the team fell into step behind him.  
  
Inside, the barn consisted of a long aisle with stalls on each side. A few shorter aisles ran off it, presumably to other rooms. Everything here, from the seasoned oak woodwork to the iron bars at the front of each stall to the brass nameplates on each door, spelled money, and Speed and Delko eyed each other again, their eyes clicking like cash registers. The activity was halfway down the right side, and Horatio turned that way. Adele was questioning a woman, and she looked up with relief as they came in.  
  
"Horatio, glad you got here so quickly. Body's in there, Alexx." She motioned to the open stall door behind her.  
  
"What have we got?" Horatio asked.  
  
"Man trampled to death by a horse, it looks like." She stressed the word slightly, and Horatio threw it back at her.  
  
"It -looks- like?"  
  
"Your call, not mine, but it looks staged to me."  
  
"It is staged," said the woman Adele had been questioning. "I'm telling you, Val didn't do it."  
  
"Who's Val?"  
  
"Valentine." She waved a hand up the aisle a few feet. There was a blank space every four stalls for the length of the aisle, like a stall with the door left off, and a gray horse was crosstied in the closest one. The horse's front legs had blood on them from the hooves halfway to the knees. Horatio knelt a few feet away, eyeing the stains. The woman followed him. "This is the gentlest horse in the barn. One of the few I'd say was safe for anyone. He never killed anybody."  
  
"I think you're right," Horatio said. "That blood isn't spatter. It's direct transfer. Still could be useful, though. We know the killer handled him, so he probably left something." He stood and turned to face the woman. She looked like a clean hobo in faded blue jeans and an old sweat shirt, but the eyes and expression were far from run-of-the-mill, even with the stress and shock of this morning's events. He wasn't sure of the horse, but this woman was a thoroughbred if he'd ever seen one.  
  
"Samantha Winters, Horatio Caine." Adele made the introductions. "She found the body."  
  
"When?"  
  
"About 8:00," she said. "We were late getting here this morning, because we had a flat tire on the way."  
  
"Who is we?"  
  
"Lisa Wilson, my partner. She was having car trouble, so I went by to pick her up. Then I had a flat tire, so we were late getting here. We usually get to the barn about 7:00 to feed the horses and do chores. We split the barn, and I took this half to feed."  
  
"And the man was dead in the stall?"  
  
"Right. I thought Val was hurt at first when I saw his legs, but when I opened the door to check, the man was lying there. So we called 911."  
  
"Did you touch anything?"  
  
"Only the horse. I moved him down to the crossties and fed him there. He was a little nervous, but I swear, he never touched that man. He never kicked anyone in his life."  
  
"Did you touch his legs at all?"  
  
"No. I left him just like he was. I thought you'd want to see it."  
  
"Thank you," said Horatio sincerely. "What about the stall door?"  
  
"I handled the latch, opening it."  
  
"We'll need your fingerprints. Also your partner's. Calleigh, could you get Ms. Winter's fingerprints, please?" He moved to the stall and entered it. "What can you tell me, Alexx?"  
  
"Blunt force trauma. His whole skull is crushed in. I'll have to do more testing back at the morgue, but it could be from a horseshoe. Some blunt object, anyway, and a lot of force. Not how you planned to spend Christmas this year, was it?" She consoled the body as if it could hear here.  
  
"What about lividity?"  
  
"Dual lividity. He's been moved." Horatio studied the victim. Medium aged, dark hair, with a face that was too narrow and a small chin. If he had been living, Horatio thought, he probably wouldn't have liked him. With him dead, it made no difference whether Horatio liked him or not. He studied the stall.  
  
"Not much blood on the wall, and again, that isn't spatter. This is definitely staged." He turned back to Sam. "Have you ever seen him before?" He knew the answer already - she was too calm for him to be even a casual acquaintance - but he had to go through the motions.  
  
"Never in my life."  
  
"What kind of lock system is on this barn?"  
  
"First class. I don't know how he could have gotten in."  
  
"Okay, thank you." Horatio stepped back out of the way to let the ME's people remove the body. "Calleigh, I want you to study access. The lock system and all doors. Look for any other way in. Eric, process this stall, and Speed, you process the horse."  
  
"What?" Speed's voice rose slightly in protest.  
  
"You process the horse. And be sure to get a cast of his shoes, to compare to the wounds."  
  
"H, I don't like horses. I ride bikes. Remember?"  
  
"Just think of him as a living part of the crime scene. The killer handled him. Treat it like any other case."  
  
"I'm staying with the horse," said Sam, eying Speed dubiously.  
  
"Speed would probably appreciate that."  
  
"What are you going to do, H?" asked Eric.  
  
"I want to talk to the partner. Where is she?"  
  
"I already talked to her. She confirms everything," said Adele, but she knew Horatio too well to be offended or surprised.  
  
"She's in the arena with Chrissy," said Sam. "Go to the end of the aisle and turn left. She had to get on with the day's routine."  
  
"Don't let a little murder mess up the day's routine," muttered Speed, not quite softly enough. Sam straightened up to her full height, which wasn't much under his, and gave him a steely glare.  
  
"These are animals, Mr. Speed. They don't have an off switch. They have to be fed, exercised, taken care of, no matter what else is happening. We have 20 horses here, and we can't just put them on hold. We're working with you as much as we can. All the lessons today have been cancelled already, and Lisa's working shorthanded so I could help you with Valentine."  
  
"And we appreciate it," said Horatio sincerely, looking at Speed steadily.  
  
"Right, sorry," said the trace expert. He turned back to face the gray horse. "Okay, horse, you're a crime scene. Got it?" Val looked back at him, then snorted, shifting his feet slightly. The steel shoes rang on the roughened concrete floor. Speed could imagine those feet slamming into flesh. He sighed and opened his field kit. "Process a horse," he grumbled to himself. "They never teach you what you need in seminars."  
  
***  
  
As Horatio turned left at the end of the aisle, he thought he heard music faintly. It grew as he walked down the second aisle, and it swelled as he opened the door at the end. He recognized the theme from the Superman movies. The door was a good six feet wide, and it opened into a huge indoor arena, 220 feet by 80. Overhead fans whirred softly, keeping the air stirred up and cool. One entire short wall of the room was a mirror. A low white railing, about a foot high, marked off a slightly smaller rectangular arena inside the larger one, leaving about a 10 foot perimeter all the way around, and a horse was being ridden inside this railing. Horatio stood watching for a minute, fascinated. The horse was dancing. His mind, spotting the patterns in anything, instantly caught the precision. The flashing feet kept perfect time with the music, and the careful choreography was obvious. Nothing random or casual at all here; every single step was planned, but there was a freedom and exuberance to it, too. He didn't know much about horses, but he had never seen anything like this before.  
  
The music now was the love theme, "Can You Read My Mind?", and the horse was cantering circles like she was fastened to an invisible carousel. The rider never moved. Neither of them noticed Horatio. The horse's ears were half tilted back toward her rider, and the pair of them made a study in focused concentration. The music switched to the main march again, and the horse changed gaits and paraded across the ring diagonally, the legs crossing over, moving forward and sideways at the same time. Every stride matched the one before, and the rhythm never broke. She crisscrossed the ring each way diagonally, drawing a huge invisible X, her steps so light and floating that she seemed to defy gravity. Down to the end of the ring, and the horse went into a tight figure eight as the music gathered itself. Then came the final musical surge to the ending, and the horse leaped out of the figure eight like a plane on the runway drops into the extra gear that leads to takeoff. Up the center line she surged with the music, straight as an arrow, the strides coming not faster but longer, the perfect rhythm held even in the explosion of energy. Almost at the last instant before she would have crashed over the white rail and into the mirror wall, the music stopped, and the horse stopped in unison with it, going from full flight to immobility instantly.  
  
The rider made the first visible movement Horatio had seen. She unsnapped a remote control from her belt and pointed it at the wall, then replaced it and gave the horse a pat on the neck. "Awesome, Chrissy. Thank you." The horse turned her neck into a U, bringing her head back to her rider's boot, making soft anticipating noises, and the woman laughed and took a treat from a small pouch hooked onto her belt, handing it to the horse. They started off at a walk, the reins loose now. "At least you never change," said the woman. "Quite a morning, Chris. Oh, hello." She spotted Horatio for the first time.  
  
"Horatio Caine, Crime Lab. Are you Lisa Wilson?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'd like to ask you some questions, please."  
  
"Sure, go ahead." At that moment, the horse suddenly tossed her head and capered sideways, twisting like a snake. Lisa straightened up, bringing her back instantly into balance. "Whoa, girl. Easy now." She circled the horse back to Horatio, stopped about ten feet away, and dismounted. He sized her up in one quick glance. Medium height, strawberry blonde hair, and green eyes which didn't quite match. She was smaller than she had seemed on horseback, and there was an air of reserve, almost of hesitation about her, but Horatio got the feeling that the impression of meekness was deceiving.  
  
"Sorry," he said, stepping across the low white rail to join them. "I didn't mean to spook your horse."  
  
"You didn't. She was correcting me."  
  
"Correcting you?"  
  
"She's focused on work, all the time. Any time my attention goes to something else, that's when she acts up. She refuses to be ridden casually."  
  
Horatio grinned to himself. A horse with intensity and dedication. He could relate. "Glad to meet you, Chrissy." He reached for her nose, and Lisa stopped him, authority replacing the hesitation instantly.  
  
"Don't ever reach for a strange horse's head, and don't stand straight in front of her. Come up from the side, and touch her neck first."  
  
"Why?" Horatio hadn't lost track of why he was there, but his mind, like a thirsty sponge, could never resist new information.  
  
"Horses' eyes function separately. They've got two separate vision fields, and there are small blind spots, about 10 degrees or so, directly in front and directly behind. Coming from the front, you're liable to hit that blind spot. At the side, you're in the center of her vision."  
  
He studied the animal, seeing it now. Eyes set on the sides of the head like that couldn't possibly work as a pair. "She looks like she focuses forward, though." She did indeed have her head up, ears pricked alertly toward him.  
  
"The ears, not the eyes. The ears work like radar dishes. They rotate, so they can focus forward together." She reached up and grabbed an ear playfully in demonstration, twisting it around, and the horse arched into the caress lovingly like a cat. "She'll hear you coming, and she'll try to identify you by sound, but you could still spook her if you pop into her vision at the last minute."  
  
"Interesting. Thank you," Horatio said sincerely. He stepped to the mare's side and gave her a pat on the neck. She was much larger up close than she had looked in action, big even for a horse, and tightly muscled, not like a football player but like a gymnast. She eyed him calmly, a queen accepting homage. Horatio turned back to Lisa. "I do have a few questions for you."  
  
"Do you mind if we walk while you ask them? Chrissy shouldn't stand around while she's hot. I need to cool her out."  
  
"No problem." They started around the ring. "I understand you arrived late this morning."  
  
"Right. Sam came by to pick me up, because my car is in the garage. Then we had a flat tire." She had an odd stride, slightly choppy. The right leg was stiff, not bending quite all the way. Horatio cut his own long stride back to match and noticed that the horse had done the same thing.  
  
"I want you to think back to when you first arrived, before you found the body. Did anything seem different? Out of place?"  
  
She took a minute to consider. "The horses were restless. I thought it was because we were late to feed them. Nothing out of place, though. We didn't even know anything was wrong until Sam was feeding and got to Val."  
  
"What about the locks? All fastened securely?"  
  
"It's an electronic lock system. You key in a pass code. It showed that it was set, same as usual."  
  
He tilted his head slightly, considering. "Who else would have the code, besides you and your partner?"  
  
"The boarders all have access."  
  
"How many people?"  
  
"Eight."  
  
"How often is the code changed?"  
  
She sighed. "Only if one of the boarders leaves. It hasn't happened for ten months. I know, we've been careless."  
  
He didn't say anything, since she had already worked that out herself. "Is it one of those locks that's part of a security system with a monitor?"  
  
"No video monitors." She shuddered slightly. "I think we'll add them, though. The system is monitored by a company downtown. Temperature sensors and all that. They call 911 if there's a fire or break in."  
  
"They wouldn't question an authorized code, but they should have a log." They were back around by the door again, and he stopped. "Thank you, Ms. Wilson. You've been quite helpful. We'll need a list of the boarders."  
  
"I gave one to that detective." She eyed him. "Do you know who he is?"  
  
"Not yet. No ID."  
  
"Why here? Wouldn't you hide a body if you killed someone? Here, we had to find it as soon as we did chores."  
  
"Usually, not always. How predictable is your schedule here?"  
  
"Very, if someone was watching. The horses like routine." She shivered slightly, feeling the unseen eyes watching.  
  
"Thank you again." They shook hands. Her grip was surprisingly strong for her size. "We'll let you know when we do have answers."  
  
The woman and the horse started off on another slow lap, and Horatio left the arena. "Why here," he repeated to himself. "That, I think, will answer a lot of questions." He headed back down the aisle to rejoin his team.  
  
"Horatio!" Calleigh called him from the main door, before he even got down to Speed and Delko, and he swung her way instead, favoring her with a businesslike but thoroughly warm smile, which she returned. They still loved working together as much as ever.  
  
She led him out to the parking area in front of the barn, stopping behind a Land Rover. "I came out to check the car. Spare on the left rear, which confirms their story. Then I was looking for tracks."  
  
"Pretty hopeless here," said Horatio, eyeing the well-traveled gravel. "No one rakes their gravel drive level every day. These cars could be from any time recently."  
  
"Right, but I was thinking, look at the light." He studied the floodlight above their head. In darkness, it would illuminate the whole front of the barn. "So I walked around the building, in case they parked somewhere else. Over here, beside a side door." They were walking as she spoke, and they stopped next to a grassy area on the side. Horatio knelt, studying the ruts.  
  
"Heavy rain last night, luckily. This came after."  
  
"Right. I'll get a cast of them."  
  
"Get prints from all the lock keypads, too. Good job, as always." He gave her a pat on the shoulder that was just a second too long to be casual as he stood up. He turned slowly, studying the whole scene again. Not a terribly busy road, especially at night. Someone could easily drive up the main drive and around the barn without being noticed. "You're right," he said.  
  
"I know," she replied, opening her field kit to cast the tracks. "What specifically am I right about?"  
  
"This is too picturesque for a crime scene."  
  
"Nothing is perfect. Present company excepted." He returned her smile. "What do you think went on here last night?"  
  
"I don't know yet. But I intend to find out." There was solid iron in his soft voice. It was a solemn promise, to the victim, whoever he had been, to his family, and to everyone whose world had been disrupted here. Calleigh reached out and squeezed his arm lightly with her gloved hand. His eyes met hers, but he wasn't smiling anymore. He turned and went back inside. 


	2. Hopes and Fears 2

"Gonna find out who's naughty and nice."  
  
Haven Gillespie, "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town"  
  
***  
  
Horatio re-entered the barn and nearly ran into Adele on her way out. "Looking for me?"  
  
"Yes." She glanced back down the aisle at Sam, still working with Speed. "What do you make of them?"  
  
"I think they're both telling the truth." No doubt at all, in fact.  
  
Adele nodded. "We'll run background checks on both of them, but I agree. It's just going through the motions." The person to find any body was automatically checked out, but in this case, they were both sure the answer was elsewhere. "Access is the main question. I've got a list of the boarders, and I'm going to question them. What do you make of the lock?"  
  
"First class system, but they've been careless with it. The code hasn't been changed in ten months. The boarders all probably have it written down somewhere in their houses or purses, so no telling how many people have it at this point. We'll contact the security company and get a log of entry times for last night. Calleigh's trying for fingerprints, too."  
  
"Well, I'm heading back downtown. I'll contact the boarders and start talking to people. Let me know what Alexx says."  
  
"Will do. I'm going to have a thorough look around here. We're still missing the primary crime scene. That body was dumped in the stall."  
  
"See you later, then."  
  
"Right." Adele headed out, and Horatio walked down the aisle to the stall. "How's it going, Eric?"  
  
The CSI looked up. "Slow, H. All the straw in here, and I don't want to miss anything hidden in it. This is definitely staged, though." He grinned at his supervisor. "First stall I've ever processed."  
  
"I'll see that you get your merit badge." He walked down to the crossties. Speed was closing his field kit, and Sam had uncoiled a water hose and was hosing off the horse's legs, using a stiff brush to help get the dried blood off. "Speed, what have you got?"  
  
"Definitely not spatter. I also found two hairs and a fiber in the blood. Not hair from the horse, but I took some of that, too, for comparison. Someone smeared the blood on his legs. Also, there's none on his shoes. Not even a trace."  
  
"That tells us something, anyway. This scene was staged by someone who didn't have time to really think it out." He considered for a minute. "We're still looking for the primary crime scene, though. And Alexx did think it could have been a horseshoe. Just to cover all the bases, I want you to look at every horse in this barn and check all the shoes for blood traces."  
  
Speed's expression never changed much, but his jaw actually dropped slightly at this. "You're kidding, H, right?" He eyed his boss hopefully. Hope was fleeting. "You're not kidding."  
  
Sam, who had been eavesdropping unashamedly, spoke up. "I think someone else had better do it. He really doesn't like them, and horses pick up on that. And Val here is as easy as it gets. Everyone else in the barn will be harder. I'll help, but they read people like a book. He's liable to get stepped on or even kicked."  
  
Horatio relented. "Okay. We'll get someone else. Speed, help Eric in the stall." Speed departed quickly before his boss could change his mind. Horatio turned to Sam. "I wanted to ask you about that. You said earlier that Val was the gentlest horse in the barn. How hard would it be to carry a dead body into a stall and then smear blood on a horse's legs?"  
  
"Very. Horses are frightened by the smell of blood. Throwback to the wild; they associate it with predators. Even Val was jumpy this morning, and he's a 10-year-old girl's pet."  
  
"What would a horse do if I tried it?"  
  
"Most of them would run around the stall and bounce off the walls. They want to run when they're scared, and caught in a 12 x 12 stall, there's no room. You'd need help. At least one more person, to hold the horse while you put on the blood. And the horse would be hard to catch. Most of them wouldn't hurt a person deliberately, but you'd probably get run over trying to arrange things. You'd sure get stepped on trying to put on the blood. We've got at least two who would tackle you straight. Fortitude, our stallion, might really wind up killing you, and Chrissy would kick you clear to Texas."  
  
Horatio met her eyes squarely, letting her feel the significance of the question. "So you don't think it's coincidence that it was Val?"  
  
"No way. I think he's the only possible choice."  
  
"How many people would know that?"  
  
"He's owned by the 10-year-old daughter of one of our other boarders. It wasn't a secret. Anyone around the barn would know him. Probably most of her school friends would know about him. Not that they would kill anyone, but word could get around. And every stall here has a name plate."  
  
"Thank you. I would advise you to change the lock code on this barn. Today, in fact." She nodded. "And for the moment, while we're investigating, don't give the new code to any of the boarders." A much longer pause, while her feelings fought what she knew were the facts, and then she nodded again, reluctantly. "If you could help with a shoe inspection, I'd appreciate it."  
  
"No problem." Her expression was bleak. She had already started running through a list of her clients and friends mentally, considering each one as a candidate for murderer.  
  
"It's probably not one of the boarders directly, more likely a friend or associate, but that's got to be the route of information."  
  
She refused the sympathy in his voice, squaring her shoulders. Whatever life threw at this woman, he thought, she would meet directly. "I need to take Val outside and put him in the pasture. You still need his stall. I'll be back in a minute." She unsnapped the cross ties and led the gray horse toward the door.  
  
Horatio started down the aisle to look for Calleigh. Hooves rang on the concrete as Lisa and Chrissy turned into the aisle from the passage to the arena and started down toward him. Lisa stopped the horse. "Have you found out anything yet?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"Bits and pieces. It takes a while." He stepped up to the horse, approaching from the side, not the front. "I'd like to see her shoes, please."  
  
Lisa reached out and put a hand on Chrissy's left foreleg. "Foot, Chris," she said, and the horse instantly offered her hoof for inspection, standing easily on three legs. Horatio made sure her eye was on him, then bent over, taking the hoof in his hands, carefully studying the steel shoe. No blood, no traces of flesh. Oh well, he often thought that 90% of CSI work was process of elimination. He released the hoof and stepped to another leg, putting his hand on it. "Foot," he said, gently but firmly, and the horse, after a second's hesitation, gave it to him. He worked his way around her four legs, finding nothing, and straightened up after the fourth one to find Speed's eyes on him from further down the aisle. Speed instantly went back to dusting the latch of the stall door for prints.  
  
"Can I put her up now?" asked Lisa.  
  
"Yes. Thank you. I'd like to look around the barn more myself, but you can go on with your work." Calleigh entered the barn again. "Calleigh, I was just about to go looking for you. I've got an assignment that's right up your alley."  
  
"Guns?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"No. Shoes."  
  
***  
  
A thorough search of the barn only revealed how large and unobtrusively elaborate the place was. To Horatio's trained eyes, nothing looked like a crime scene. He would have to ask Alexx, but he was sure that there would be blood spatter at the site where the man had died. As he searched the last side passage, he suddenly broke into a grin. On the door ahead was a sign reading "Feed Room," and below that was another with the motto of the U.S. Post Office: "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds." Nor murder, he added mentally. He remembered talking to a man once who had been raised on a farm and had run to the city as soon as he was old enough to leave home. "You know what a farm is?" the man had asked him. "Jail without bars, that's what it is." Horatio opened the door carefully, wearing gloves, but there was no crime scene here either. Just a long feed bin against the wall and a shelf with jars and buckets above it. The feed bin contained only grain, the jars only horse supplements. On the other wall of the room was a couch with a small table next to it. Four books were on the table, and he picked them up curiously. A Dick Francis mystery, the Complete Works of Shakespeare, I Heard the Owl Call My Name, and the Epic of Gilgamesh. Interesting selection, but still no crime scene. He put the books down and headed for the main aisle again.  
  
Calleigh was just coming down the aisle. "Any luck shopping for shoes?" he asked her.  
  
"None in our size."  
  
"Let's check in with the boys and head back to CSI. Our main crime scene is still missing." They walked together down to the stall. "How's it going, gentlemen?"  
  
"We've still got a few hours here, I'd say," said Eric.  
  
"We'll meet you back at CSI, then. Keep me posted if you find anything interesting."  
  
"Will do," said Eric. Horatio and Calleigh headed out, and Eric turned back to the stall with a sigh. He had never realized just how much straw was in a stall, not to mention other unpleasant things. The careful search was paying off, though. They already had a couple of fibers.  
  
Speed had straightened up for a minute while Horatio was standing there, and as he turned back to work, he noticed Chrissy. The mare was in the stall directly across the aisle, and she had her head over her stall door, looking at him with an expression that spoke as clearly as words: "I know my pedigree, but what is yours?"  
  
"What are you looking at?" scowled Speed.  
  
"What?" Eric looked up, puzzled.  
  
"That horse keeps looking at us." Eric stood up and looked at Chrissy, then shrugged, always willing to let things just roll off him.  
  
"Forget the horse. Listen, man, what are you doing for Christmas?"  
  
Speed knelt to continue the slow combing through the straw. "I dunno. Work, probably. There's some stuff in the lab that needs catching up."  
  
"You can't work on Christmas."  
  
"Why not? Alexx is having us over on Christmas Eve, so I'll get my Christmas dinner. She'll probably even give me leftovers, so I can have it again at CSI."  
  
"You can't spend it alone." Speed shrugged again and continued picking through the straw. "Why don't you come to family dinner with me?"  
  
Speed looked up at that. "With your family?"  
  
"They don't bite, you know. My dad can be a little tough, but they're good people, really."  
  
Speed was touched at the offer, but part of him still hesitated. "Would they mind another person?"  
  
"With my family? They probably won't even notice another person." The two friends grinned at each other.  
  
"Okay, then. If you're sure it's alright." They returned their attention to the straw.  
  
***  
  
As the Hummer headed back into the city, Calleigh was sorting through the evidence thus far. The killers had parked on the far side of the barn. They had been wearing gloves; she hadn't gotten a clear set of prints off the lock pad. Probably, the dead body had been in their vehicle already, killed somewhere else. She had a cast of the tire tracks, and she would start looking for a match with what was left of this afternoon. But why take a body to a barn to dump? Why not just on the side of the road or in the woods somewhere?  
  
She turned to Horatio to discuss it with him. Their minds worked together like flint, and bouncing the evidence back and forth between them could often strike sparks and shed some light on things. She hesitated, though, as she noticed his expression. His eyes were focused but not as intense as usual, his head tilted slightly. He was analyzing something, but the expression wasn't his usual consideration of a case. In fact, he almost looked like he was listening to distant music, listening the way he listened to music, sorting out the individual patterns that wove it into a whole.  
  
"Hey, Handsome." He snapped back to himself and looked over at her. "Where were you?"  
  
He hesitated, so unlike him that it got her attention. "Calleigh, have you ever seen a horse dance?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The other partner was riding one of the horses to music when I went to question her. It was beautiful." He didn't call many things beautiful, but she couldn't picture it herself. He realized at once that this was failing in translation, a frustration he often ran into when he tried to explain his perceptions, even to Calleigh. "I guess you had to see it." His eyes hardened, focusing now on the case. "What would you say the main questions are here?"  
  
"Why dump a body in a barn?"  
  
"Right. Also, how did they know which horse was easiest to handle? Where is the information link? And if he wasn't killed here, where was he killed?"  
  
Calleigh nodded. "And if he wasn't trampled by a horse, what did kill him?" They discussed the case the rest of the way back to CSI, but they weren't any further when they got there. No sparks yet.  
  
***  
  
Alexx touched the body on the steel table gently, compassionately, as if she didn't want her efforts to somehow hurt it beyond what had already been done. "He was hit in the back of the head. The first blow probably killed him, but the killer took two or three more for good measure. The whole back of the skull is crushed in. He probably never felt it, at least."  
  
Horatio considered. "In the back of the head. A horse might kick him there, but hardly three or four times in the identical spot. No further injuries?"  
  
"Nothing. No bruises anywhere. I did find what looked like some kind of wood fiber in the wound. I sent it to trace."  
  
"Wood. No steel?"  
  
"No. I'm not sure if a horseshoe would leave steel traces, though. You might expect straw, maybe. I've never worked on anyone trampled to death by a horse before."  
  
"You still haven't," said Horatio. "Thank you, Alexx." He headed out of the autopsy room and went toward the main lab. Calleigh was sitting in front of a computer, totally focused, her lips tightened in determination, and he watched her through the glass for a moment before entering, still captivated by everything that was, unbelievably, his. She felt him watching her, of course. She looked up with her progress is too slow expression, and he entered the lab to look over her shoulder at the results. "No match on the tires?"  
  
"Not yet, but I haven't been working at it long. I talked to the lock company. The system was locked and set at 9:45 last night, unlocked this morning at 1:45 AM, and not unlocked again until 8:00 this morning. It's not unheard of to have people come in at the middle of the night, and the code was right, so they never questioned it."  
  
"1:45. That storm was almost over then."  
  
"Right. No moonlight, though. Perfect weather to hide a body."  
  
"They didn't hide it." Horatio frowned in concentration. "Why put it there?"  
  
"To make it look like a horse did it."  
  
"Doesn't explain the code, or them knowing which horse to pick. This is too elaborate to be set up after the killing. Staging a trampling was set up in a hurry, or they would have done a better job of it, but they already knew about the barn in the first place. There are easier ways to dump a body if that's all you want to do. But I searched that whole barn. Why would they want to go there? What is it about that place?" His cell phone rang, and he gave her a half smile of apology as he turned his attention away from her. His side of the conversation didn't tell her anything. "Adele," he said as he snapped the phone shut. "She wants to talk to me. Are the boys back yet?"  
  
"Not yet. That stall was going to take a while. I almost felt sorry for Speed today."  
  
Horatio grinned at her. "So did I. Almost." The formal, courteous, always collected Horatio Caine had an imp hidden inside of him that peeked out at rare times, and Calleigh knew that he had assigned Speed to the horse deliberately. Speed was the best trace expert, but still, Eric could have done it, and wouldn't have been bothered by it. In fact, Eric would have made it a joke on himself and laughed along with them. "I'd better get over to Adele," he said, the playful light fading out of his eyes. "Didn't you have something you were going to do tonight?"  
  
"Going shopping. Still . . . " She looked at the computer, hesitating.  
  
"It's already 6:00, and we aren't going to finish this case tonight anyway. We've got a long way to go yet. Go on, and I'll meet you at home."  
  
She pushed her work together into a fairly neat pile, straightened up, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. "See you there, then. First one home cooks dinner."  
  
"Deal. What are you going shopping for?"  
  
"None of your business," she said pertly. "At least, not yet."  
  
***  
  
Adele handed the computer printouts over to Horatio. "Background check on the two partners and the stable was quite interesting."  
  
"Really?" He hadn't expected anything there. He started reading the first paper, background police records check on Lisa Wilson, and his eyes stopped abruptly and hardened. He looked up and met the same sympathetic fury in Adele's. "She was attacked and raped a few years ago."  
  
"Right. Never caught the perp. Poor woman."  
  
Horatio finished reading the case summary. He remembered the faint hesitation in her that afternoon as she faced a strange man. It had vanished as soon as her attention became focused on the horse, but that first impression had struck him at the time. He remembered his second impression, too, that there was a lot more strength behind the hesitancy than you might expect, and hoped that it was true. He finished the police report and flipped to the next page.  
  
"Samantha Winters," Adele summarized. "Now this one is interesting. She has no police record at all herself, but she's rich."  
  
"Winters Department Store," said Horatio, the light dawning.  
  
"Right. That's her father. So when they set up the stable, the partnership agreement and all the paperwork was filed, everything in order. Except that Sam put up 100% of the capital and by contract covers all expenses for any non profit years. Lisa, on the other hand, entered with no considerations at all listed, has no obligations listed for future years, and they still split all profits 50/50. Sam paid for everything. The facility, all the horses. And it easily cost a million to build that barn. Under that contract, Lisa doesn't have to contribute anything, then or now. All it says is that profits, if there are any, will be split equally."  
  
Horatio's eyebrow arched slightly. "That's an interesting concept of partnership. They really seemed to work as a team, though. And you should see Lisa ride. She's good with the horses."  
  
"I agree, it seemed like a good working relationship. It's just odd."  
  
"Being odd isn't a crime," Horatio reminded her. "Fortunately for a lot of us. What else do you have?"  
  
"I've been contacting the boarders, setting up appointments to talk to them tomorrow. Except for one. The woman and her daughter you asked about, the ones who own Valentine, are out of town for the holidays. I spoke to the housesitter."  
  
"Let's talk to the housesitter, then." She eyed him dubiously. "Someone came across that entry code and used it for another reason. A housesitter is as good a candidate as any at this point. In fact, I'd vote against any of the horse set directly. They would have remembered to put blood on the bottom of the shoes."  
  
Adele nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll set up an appointment with the housesitter. It'll be tomorrow, though."  
  
"Tomorrow is soon enough. We aren't anywhere near done processing the evidence. This isn't a one day case. Unfortunately." He stood up. "See you tomorrow, Adele."  
  
"Good night, H."  
  
***  
  
Calleigh exited the mall with a shopping bag in hand, actually humming a Christmas tune until she caught herself at it. Buying a gift for Horatio had been fun, though. It was years until she had put that kind of effort into any Christmas gift. Years since anyone in her life had been worth it. She still remembered the admiring appraisal in his eyes as they stood face- to-face after the sniper had been arrested. She said she didn't look good in black, and Horatio stepped tantalizingly just past professionalism as he surveyed her and said silkily, "I beg to differ." The words had given her chills at the time, when she never dared to hope he could be anything other than her boss. Now, she had the freedom to follow up on them. Her shopping bag contained a matching set in black silk, a negligee for her, boxers for him. "You don't look bad in black yourself, Handsome," she said to the parking lot in general.  
  
"Calleigh?" She turned toward the voice.  
  
"Marie! I haven't seen you in. . . " Actually she hadn't seen her since Janet Medrano's funeral, but she remembered that just in time to avoid saying it.  
  
"You look great!" They hugged each other, the intervening months instantly forgotten.  
  
"Mom!" An 8-year-old did an impatient dance toward the mall.  
  
"Just a minute, Ben." Marie turned back to Calleigh. "So how are things with you? I got the wedding invitation, but we weren't in town that weekend."  
  
"Things are wonderful." Calleigh's eyes spoke louder than her voice, and Marie hugged her again.  
  
"I'm so happy for you."  
  
"So how's Philip?" To Calleigh's horror, Marie's eyes filled up with tears, which she bravely tried and almost succeeded at containing. "What is it? Is Philip . . . "  
  
"He ran away with his secretary."  
  
"He WHAT!?!" Calleigh would have been less shocked if he had been dead.  
  
"He ran away with his secretary. Two months ago. Just like in all the stories."  
  
"But you'd been married for ten years."  
  
"Eleven. I couldn't believe it. He was actually seeing her for six of them. I tell you, Calleigh, don't ever trust a man. You may think you know them, but . . . oh, I didn't mean you. I'm sure Horatio. . ." She broke off suddenly, flustered.  
  
"Mom!" Ben galloped back toward them and tried to drag his mother along physically.  
  
"We'll have lunch some time, okay?" suggested Calleigh.  
  
"Right. I'd like that. And Merry Christmas." The tone was bravely determined, but Calleigh heard the pain behind it.  
  
"Merry Christmas," she called after them. As she opened her car door, she wasn't humming any longer.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh was awakened by the thump downstairs. With a 7-year-old's version of stealth, she crept out of her bedroom. Would she actually catch Santa Claus? She went down the stairs on tiptoe, then teetered to a stop at the edge of the last step. The Christmas tree in the living room was brightly lit, but there was something new underneath it. Her father lay sprawled full length, a bottle still clutched tightly in his hand, lying where he had fallen when he tripped. With a gasp, Calleigh realized in horror which box he had fallen directly on. The teacher had asked them to make houses out of popsicle sticks and make stick families to put in them. She had spent a lot of time on hers, making the family she wished she had, decorating the house to make it happy, and the teacher had praised it so much and insisted that she give it to her parents. She even helped Calleigh find a box and wrap it. Now, Calleigh's father was collapsed heavily across it, the flattened box protruding a bit, a pitiful piece of ribbon sticking out in a desperate attempt to still look happy. Without a sound, Calleigh crept back up the stairs. She waited until her door was safely closed behind her to give way to tears. Then, she flung herself on her bed and sobbed, remembering that perfect, happy family she had worked so hard to create, now hopelessly smashed. She would never have them again.  
  
"Calleigh." Her father was coming to blame her for the mess. No wait, not her father's voice. This voice was full of concern, not condemnation. Hands gripped her gently. Not her father's hands, either, for his hands had never known gentleness. Regret sometimes, but never gentleness.  
  
"Horatio." She collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest, and he held her tightly, rocking her slightly like a child.  
  
"Shh, it's okay. It was just a dream. You're awake now." He stroked her hair softly, just holding her until she had cried herself out. She finally unburied herself from his chest, sniffling a bit, then turned on the bedside lamp, and met his eyes. He slid over and put his arm around her, pulling her head onto his shoulder. He didn't push her. He was simply there for her, ready to talk if she wanted, ready to be silent if she wanted that, too.  
  
"I was dreaming about Christmas, when I was seven," she started hesitantly. He listened without comment through the dream, then threw back the covers, sliding into his robe, handing her hers.  
  
"Horatio, what are you doing? It's chilly in here."  
  
"So put your robe on." She did, and he came around to her side of the bed to pull her to her feet.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"We're going to the living room to look at the Christmas tree."  
  
Calleigh pulled back. "Horatio, that's just crazy. I'm okay now. I know it's not like that here."  
  
"So let me convince myself. You wouldn't want me to dream about it now, would you?" He wrapped his arm warmly around her, leading her down the hall. She was half laughing now.  
  
"Horatio, this is ridiculous. It was a dream. I know that." They passed a digital clock. "It's 2:00 AM. Come on, let's get back in bed, and you can warm me up." He smiled at the implied invitation, but he never broke his smooth progress down the hall. They entered the living room, and he led her to the middle, then stopped.  
  
"Look around," he said almost urgently. She did. The Christmas tree in the corner was glowing softly, highlighting each ornament they had put on together last weekend. The presents underneath were pristine, the ribbons and bows standing up happily. The light from the tree illuminated the living room dimly, making the furniture stand out as friendly, familiar shadows. Horatio gripped Calleigh's face gently between his two hands and turned her back to face him. "You see, it was all a dream. Just a bad dream. But you're awake now."  
  
She stared at his eyes, shining like diamonds in the Christmas tree lights. Without a word, she collapsed against him, hugging him fiercely, squeezing him to convince herself of the reality, and the reality reached out and squeezed her back, and she wasn't cold anymore. 


	3. Hopes and Fears 3

Here's part 3. See part 1 for Slightly Unusual Disclaimer and other fine print. I forgot to mention in the S.U.D., Ruth is also real. I asked her last night if she would mind having a small but important cameo in my story. They say silence gives consent. You'll hate me for the cliffhanger, but stopping it anywhere for the next bit would be a cliffhanger. Everything to date has just been laying the groundwork. The real plot is about to begin. Enjoy.  
  
***  
  
Then in despair I bowed my head. "There is no peace on earth," I said. "For hate is strong and mocks the song Of peace on earth, good will to men."  
  
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day" (This was written at the height of the U.S. Civil War, in case you wonder what was eating him. Not a dark poem when you read all stanzas, though.)  
  
***  
  
Horatio pulled up to the barn about 9:00 the next morning to find an anthill swarming with activity. Several cars were in the parking area, and two horses were being ridden in the outdoor arena. He entered and ran into Sam almost instantly, heading down the aisle with a caddy of grooming tools in her hand. "Looking for me?"  
  
"Yes, I was." He glanced around. The main aisle seemed fairly quiet compared to the cars outside. Sam followed his thought.  
  
"Lisa's teaching a lesson in the indoor, so several people are there. And two of the boarders are riding outside. We've probably got 20 minutes, if it's private. As long as you don't mind if I groom while I talk. Yesterday's lessons were all doubled onto today, so it's a little hectic."  
  
"No problem." He followed her down to where a horse was crosstied in one of the open stalls. "I wanted to take another look around this barn. I just have a feeling that we still don't have all the pieces here. First, though, I'd like to ask you a question. Nothing to do with the investigation. None of my business, in fact. Just curiosity."  
  
Sam picked up the currycomb and started working on the horse with businesslike strokes. "You did a background check on us," she said without looking at him. "And you want to know why."  
  
"Exactly." Horatio could never stand having a piece of a puzzle missing, directly tied to an investigation or not.  
  
"Have you ever just thought someone deserved a break in life, Mr. Caine?" Her eyes were glued to the horse.  
  
"Lots of times."  
  
"Lisa was orphaned when she was nine when her parents were killed in a car accident. That's when she hurt her leg, too. Raised in a string of foster homes. I first met her when she was 15, when we took lessons at the same stable. She would clean stalls all week in exchange for one hour riding. So I decided to give her a break."  
  
Horatio took a step toward her (on the side of the horse, not the front), focusing his intensity to make her look up. "Not good enough. No one builds a complex like this and sets up a business just to give someone a break. At least, you wouldn't. Why are you doing this for her?"  
  
Sam met his eyes over the horse's neck. Again, he felt the strength of her personality, but there was a hint of wistfulness in her now, too. "Did you see Lisa riding yesterday?" He nodded. "What did you think of it?"  
  
"Beautiful precision," he said instantly.  
  
"Exactly. Beautiful precision." She went back to brushing the horse. "Dressage is an odd sport. It doesn't appeal to many people. If you want the adrenaline thrill, it's not there. But if you want beautiful precision, there's nothing else like it. Working with a living animal to get a partnership like that. It's an art form. It's been my dream all my life, to get to the highest level." She stopped brushing, again meeting his eyes. "And I'm never going to get there."  
  
He understood instantly. "It's a gift."  
  
"Right. All the lessons, all the money, all the physical ability in the world isn't enough. I'm a better athlete than Lisa. As far as I went, I learned it faster. She's had to fight for every inch. But if I took lessons from the world champion every day, I'd never improve past where I am now. And there was Lisa, in the same stable, working so hard for it. She has the God-given gift for this, and I don't. But I do have money, and that can sure make the road easier. So six years ago, we went into business so I could help her." She stepped to the other side of the horse and continued brushing. "It takes years, but she'll go all the way. You saw Chrissy?"  
  
"Yes. I've never seen anything like that."  
  
"She's 24 years old. When a horse gets past its prime competitively but is trained all the way to the top, the rider will sell to a rider who's still learning but is advanced enough to deal with the challenge. Chrissy's job right now is to give Lisa an education. We've had her a year, and the difference is amazing. But I can't ride her, myself. She's too trained to be easy to ride." She saw his slightly puzzled look. "You're confusing training with gentleness. Val is gentle. Chrissy is trained. It's like a fighter jet; it performs to a higher level, but it's much harder to fly. It demands more from the pilot. The more trained a horse gets, the harder they are to ride. If someone just casually grabbed Chrissy and jumped on, she'd out-buck a rodeo horse. She'd be offended at the poor rider's ignorance. It pushes Lisa to ride her. Over a year ago, she couldn't have. You should see our trainer ride her when she comes to give Lisa lessons. Now that's ballet."  
  
"So you're fulfilling her dream." The puzzle pieces fit now.  
  
"It's my dream, too. I just had to modify it a bit. As much as I can, I get to participate in this, and that's something I could never buy. She gives me more than I've ever given her."  
  
She reminded him of his mother. Not at all physically, but the directness, the strength were the same. "You're a remarkable person," said Horatio sincerely.  
  
She paused in her task again. Level gray eyes met his, facing facts squarely. "So is she. The world is full of remarkable people. You just have to open your eyes and look for them."  
  
"Thank you for the explanation," said Horatio. He glanced at his watch. "I'd better get to work. I've got interviews today, and I want to look around this barn thoroughly again. You did change the lock code, right?"  
  
"Did it yesterday. What do you have, Ruth?" This question was addressed to a black and white barn cat who was coming toward them, something shiny in her mouth, tail waving in a sinuous question mark. She padded up to Horatio and dropped her treasure at his feet, and he picked it up. It was a pen. He passed it to Sam.  
  
"So that's where it went. My good pen vanished from the office last week." She stroked the cat with affectionate exasperation. "Ruth is a great hunter, but she's a thief. She steals things and hides them, then brings them back a few days later like she's doing us a favor. How's the investigation going?"  
  
Horatio gave her credit for waiting so far into their conversation to ask him that question. It set her above most of the public. "It takes time. We've got several leads, though. The evidence will tell us what happened." Hooves clattered up the aisle as one of the boarders came in from outside. She fell into horsey conversation with Sam, and Horatio slipped away.  
  
He couldn't shake the feeling that this barn was important, that it had meant something to the killers even aside from the murder. He combed through the entire place again, trying to see it not as a murder scene but as . . . something else. Hiding place? Not likely. The place was surprisingly clean for a barn and extremely organized. Ruth might hide things here, but people wouldn't have many options. Also, if today was any indication, there was too much traffic to make it safe. Rendezvous point, then? He stopped in one of the side passages, thinking. The barn was isolated but fairly close to the city. At night, no one would be likely to be disturbed. But what did it have that a remote patch of woods didn't? A mental puzzle piece clicked into place. Lights. The barn was well lit, but the lights wouldn't show to the outside world at night. If you wanted to have a meeting, an undisturbed meeting, with people you didn't trust enough to meet in shadows, this wasn't a bad option. Provided you had the entry code. He whipped out his cell phone.  
  
"Calleigh Caine." His name attached to hers brought a smile to his face.  
  
"Hello there, Beautiful."  
  
"Hello yourself." He could hear her matching smile through her voice.  
  
"I need you to check on something for me. Call the security company back and ask them if the barn was entered during the night for any night in the week preceding the murder."  
  
"You think they were using it regularly?"  
  
"I think they were using it for some purpose besides framing horses for murder. They already knew about this place, before the body."  
  
"Will do, Handsome. Are you still out at the barn? I thought you were meeting Adele for interviews."  
  
"I am. I'm leaving now."  
  
"Cutting it fine, aren't you?"  
  
"I talked to Sam first, before I started to search again."  
  
She laughed. "You're incorrigible. Can't stand to not understand people, can you?"  
  
"Guilty as charged. What's my sentence?"  
  
"I'll think something up." She dropped back into professionalism. "I'll get to work on the lock."  
  
"Thank you, Cal. See you later."  
  
"Bye, Horatio." He loved how she could make his name sound. How on earth had he lived so many years without her?  
  
Snapping back to himself and snapping the phone shut, he went back into the main aisle, then hesitated, one final thought demanding his attention. He walked down to Val's stall and eyed the leather halter with brass nameplate hanging on a hook in front of it. The stall had been thoroughly processed yesterday, but the halter had been on the horse. The killers would have had to put it on the horse, too. He studied it without touching it, then stepped across the aisle and picked up Chrissy's identical halter, noting in passing that her official name was Kristian Joy. He buckled it, then unbuckled it, noting the thick leather. Not at all easy to buckle, especially wearing gloves, especially for someone unused to handling one. The killers had worn gloves entering the lock code, but trying to buckle that halter onto a spooked horse would have required more dexterity. He replaced Chrissy's halter, pulled on latex gloves himself, and took Val's halter off its hook. He walked up the aisle to where Sam was grooming another horse. "I'd like to take Val's halter with me," he said. "You'll get it back eventually."  
  
"Fine," she said. "We've got extras. You think it might have fingerprints?"  
  
"Very likely. I think it would be hard to put one on a spooked horse wearing gloves." She considered this and nodded, and his cell phone rang.  
  
"H, where are you? I'm about ready to start doing my job by myself." It was Adele.  
  
"On my way," he promised. He nodded to Sam and left the barn.  
  
***  
  
Adele and Horatio spent most of the day interviewing boarders, hearing countless versions of the same story. They had not been near the barn that night, and of course no one else had the code, it was kept in some secure location like written down in the glove compartment of the car, or on the main message pad in the house, or fastened to the fridge with a magnet. The two officers took notes and thanked them for cooperating and mentally multiplied the number of people who could have had access by at least four.  
  
The glaring exception to the routine was the housesitter staying at Val's owner's house. This was a thin, pale man in his early 30s. Far too pale, Horatio thought. He hadn't seen much sun lately. Of course, there could be more than one explanation for that, but he decided within thirty seconds of starting the interview to turn this rock over further and see what was underneath.  
  
"I knew they had horses, of course," the man said to Adele. Horatio, prowling around the house, counted the pictures of horses. There were eight in the living room alone, some of the daughter with Valentine, some of her mother with a tall chestnut horse. "But I didn't know anything about a lock. I didn't even know where the barn was."  
  
"How do you know the owner?" said Adele, forcing him to look at her. He kept glancing uneasily at Horatio. People who prowled systematically instead of nervously always bothered witnesses who were nervous themselves.  
  
Horatio paused at the desk in the corner. A bill for board was on top of the stack, including the address of the barn in the letterhead. He dusted the desk for fingerprints and found nothing. Now that was suspicious. No one's housecleaning was that good.  
  
"I'm a distant cousin." He started to say more and pulled himself up on the edge of it.  
  
One of the pictures on the desk had a brass plate in the wood of the frame, identifying Valentine and his young owner. Horatio remembered the brass nameplates on the door of each stall, the smaller ones on each halter. No prints here either.  
  
Adele continued the questioning as Horatio ambled nonchalantly into the kitchen, knowing he was driving this witness nuts. No lock code on the fridge here, but there was a message pad attached to a magnet. He picked it up, then dropped it into an envelope and pocketed it. Adele frowned at him over the witness's head through the doorway, and he grinned at her. He was fairly sure the owner, wherever she was, wouldn't mind helping this investigation. He would just get permission after the fact.  
  
He walked back into the living room, coming up behind the witness. "We'll need the address where the owner of this house is staying. We will have to talk with her, of course."  
  
"No problem." That, at least, didn't seem to bother him. Adele wrote the number down.  
  
"Thank you for your cooperation," she said. "We might have more questions for you in the future." Count on it, she thought. As the door closed behind them and she turned away with Horatio, she added, "That one's involved somehow."  
  
Horatio nodded. "All we have to do is prove it. No prints at all on the desk."  
  
"None?"  
  
"None. There is a bill there with the address of the barn, and a picture with the name of the horse. Lots of pictures with the kid. Anyone would know he was gentle."  
  
"What about the note pad that you took illegally?"  
  
"No code, but I'll have Speed reconstruct the last few pages. And I didn't take it illegally, Adele. I fully intend to get the owner's permission."  
  
"You sure push the limits sometimes, H."  
  
"I have to. So do the criminals." He stopped at the Hummer. "I'm heading back to CSI. This was the last interview, right?"  
  
"Right. I'll run a background check on our friend here."  
  
"One more thing. Find out who lives in that house across the street."  
  
She had started for her own car, but she turned and took a step back toward him. "What on earth does that have to do with it?"  
  
"Someone's watching us right now, behind the curtain. Someone watched us arrive, too."  
  
"You think the neighbors are involved?"  
  
"Not directly. I think we have an unofficial security system here. Personal monitor of the neighborhood, on duty 24/7. It could easily explain why the criminals didn't meet at this empty house instead of the barn."  
  
She jotted a note to herself. "Will do. Let me know what the team has so far."  
  
"I'll call you." He got in the Hummer and headed back for CSI, watching the curtain in the window twitch as he drove away.  
  
***  
  
The team assembled in the layout room, Horatio at the head of the table. "Okay, Speed, what have we got so far?"  
  
"The hair in the blood on the horse is human, but it's nobody's DNA on file. Gives us a sample to compare to, though. The fibers are plain cotton, the kind that come from gloves. No prints anywhere on the stall door except those of the two partners. The blood on the horse and in the stall did come from the victim."  
  
"Eric."  
  
"There were several fibers from the stall, more from gloves and one that I'm still tracking. It's some kind of suit material. Top end. The wood fiber Alexx found in the wound is from a pool cue. They're a lot stronger than they look. Multilayer laminated for strength."  
  
"A pool cue," Horatio said thoughtfully. "Definitely not normally found around a barn. Not terribly heavy, though. Alexx, how much strength would it take to kill someone with a pool cue?"  
  
"Quite a bit. Definitely a man, probably a large one. It can be done - we've seen it done - but it's not easy."  
  
"What about ID?"  
  
"Got a hit on that from AFIS," said Speed. "Carl Gonzalez. He'd done some time for assault with a deadly weapon. Doesn't have the brains to put anything together, but he's available to the highest bidder."  
  
"When did he last get out?"  
  
"Six months ago. We're already working on all known associates, cross- referencing dates in and out of the system."  
  
"Keep at it. Calleigh." He had deliberately saved the best for last.  
  
"The tire tracks came from a tire used by Ford on their SUVs. Probably an Explorer, judging from the wheelbase. Fairly new tires. No prints on the lock keypad except the partners'."  
  
"Speed, when you get your list of associates, let's cross-reference for Explorers. Also, two more things." He opened his field kit and removed the halter and notepad. "Eric, process this halter for prints, especially that brass nameplate. It would hold them nicely. Speed, I want the previous pages of this notepad, as far back as you can reconstruct them."  
  
"What about you, H?" asked Eric.  
  
"I'm going to get permission to take that notepad back to the lab and check it out."  
  
Speed froze halfway to touching it, already hearing the defense attorney objecting in his mind. "You don't have permission yet? Or a warrant either?"  
  
Horatio's eyes met his steadily. "I will have by the time you finish with it."  
  
"Okay," said Speed dubiously. Calleigh hung behind as the rest of the team filed out of the room.  
  
"What if you don't get permission?"  
  
His blue eyes dazzled hers. "Why shouldn't they give me permission?"  
  
Right then, she couldn't think of a single reason to deny him permission for anything. She looked down, breaking eye contact so that she could think, and he chuckled softly. Then, with a light touch on her arm, he left the layout room for his office.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh woke up from another dream of Christmas and reached instantly for Horatio. Her heart slowed as her hands found him. He was sound asleep. She relaxed back against the pillows, breathing deeply, keeping one hand lightly on him to reassure herself of his presence.  
  
This time, it had been the Christmas when she was 11, when her father had gotten drunk and spent Christmas afternoon trying to shoot out the lights on the Christmas tree with a 22. His aim had deteriorated along with the level in the bottle, and finally furious at his inability to shoot straight, he staggered out of the house to the car, heading off in search of an open store to replenish the whiskey. Calleigh had crept downstairs tentatively, trying to determine if the coast was clear, only to find her mother sobbing at the kitchen table, worried that her father would get into an accident with the car and get himself killed. Without thinking, Calleigh had blurted out, "I hope he does." It was the one time her mother had ever slapped her, and the ringing blow startled both of them. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, and then Calleigh wheeled around and bolted out the back door, grabbing her own 22 on the way. She spent the rest of the afternoon in the woods, picking off pine cones, setting up targets and knocking them down, trying to calm herself by something she had control over. Trying and failing. The whole time, part of her was preparing the apology that would have to come to her mother later, saying that she had just been upset, that she hadn't meant it, and her mother would apologize for hitting her and would seize her captive in a massive, floppy hug and cry over her instead of her father. It was the other part of Calleigh's mind that chilled her more than the weather. That was the part that knew that she had meant it.  
  
Calleigh snuggled down against Horatio, and he shifted without waking up, putting an arm around her. For a while, she considered waking him up, so that he could tell her that he was real, that it was the other that had been a dream, and that she wouldn't wake up from this life and be back there again. That's crazy, she told herself. What is wrong with you, Cal? Remember last night. Remember the other day. You're awake now, and we're together, and it's going to be different this year.  
  
Still, it took her a long time to get back to sleep.  
  
***  
  
Sam came down the barn aisle carrying a saddle, stopping at the crossties where Lisa was grooming Chrissy. Lisa looked up. "Going to watch this morning?"  
  
"Absolutely. I haven't had a chance to all week, with everything that's been going on. And we haven't got any lessons today until afternoon."  
  
"The people are coming to install the video monitors this afternoon," Lisa reminded her. "I'm about ready to consider guard dogs, too." She shivered, suddenly feeling unsafe in the world again. Sam bumped her lightly on the shoulder as she stepped past her and started to saddle the horse.  
  
Lisa gave Chrissy a final swipe down her velvet nose and dropped the brush into the grooming caddy, reaching for the bridle which hung ready on a hook. The cat paraded up and deposited a shiny item proudly, like a bird dog presenting its prey to the master. "What is it now, Ruth?" Lisa picked up the gold ring and studied it. "Sam, have you ever seen this?"  
  
Sam finished tightening the girth and stepped to her side. "Never. That's an odd-looking thing." It was thick gold with a design of snakes twisted around it. Inscribed inside the band was A.B.E. "Who is A.B.E.?"  
  
Lisa shrugged. "No idea. Of course, the boarders bring friends in to see the horses. We ought to ask around. Goodness knows how long Ruth has had it."  
  
"Right, I'll ask everyone when I see them." Sam took the ring from Lisa and pocketed it. The cat, tired of waiting for approval, extended one claw and pronged her in the leg. "Sorry, Ruth. Thank you. It's just what I've always wanted." Unsatisfied, the cat turned and stalked off, tail waving disapprovingly. Lisa snickered.  
  
"I don't think she thought you meant it." She remembered what she was doing and slipped the reins over the horse's head, then took off the halter and replaced it with the bridle. Chrissy started champing the bit in anticipation as soon as she felt it in her mouth. Her ears flickered alertly from Lisa toward the ring and back again.  
  
"Will you do Beethoven for me this morning?" asked Sam. The longest and hardest of the three freestyles Lisa was working on was set to the final movement of Beethoven's Third Symphony.  
  
"If we're up to it. I'll see how she's feeling. We need to watch the time, too. That security company will be here at noon sharp, and if you want to ride, it will have to come before then." She looked at her watch, then shook it sharply. "My watch has stopped." She was a chronic clock watcher who couldn't stand to be in a room without one.  
  
"Here." Sam removed her own Rolex. "You can wear mine at the moment. Yours probably just needs a battery." She knew that Lisa would go crazy without a working watch.  
  
"Thanks." Lisa dropped her own watch into the grooming caddy, then immediately pulled it back out. "No, Ruth would get it, and we wouldn't see it for two weeks."  
  
"I'll put it in the car," said Sam. "See you in the ring." She took the watch as Lisa and Chrissy started up the aisle.  
  
Up at the ring, Lisa mounted Chrissy and started off at a walk with loose reins, stretching the old horse out, feeling for any kinked muscles and stiff spots, working each one loose with gentle calisthenics. As always, a surge of pure elation swept through Lisa as she started to ride. Four strong legs, even strides, without that slight hesitation. On horseback, she did not limp. Chrissy snorted a warning, and Lisa immediately focused on the task at hand, working gently through the warm up exercises. After 10 minutes, she brought the horse together into balance, collecting her, compressing her body like a spring, and Chrissy surged up like she had become lighter and began to dance. Back and forth across the ring they went, working each gait, lengthening and shortening the strides. Sam watched quietly at the sidelines, spellbound, living it vicariously. After 25 minutes, Lisa brought Chrissy back to a walk and let her stretch out again. "I think we're up for Beethoven," she called. "She feels pretty good today." She unfastened the remote control from her belt and aimed it at the stereo inset in the wall, calling up the right CD on the CD changer, then hitting the track. She pushed play and collected the horse again in the few seconds of silence on the beginning of the freestyle. Sam sat forward on the edge of her chair with anticipation.  
  
Chrissy picked up an extended canter and blasted up the center line with the opening symphonic run, then dropped immediately into a light-footed march to match the music. This was the hardest of their freestyles, and Lisa was utterly focused, feeling each muscle, each nerve ending in both her body and the horse's, keeping with the music while holding the technique, too. It always reminded her of sculpture, only working with a living, breathing element, not cold marble, trying to achieve the perfect balance and partnership, then doing it again in the next stride, and the next. Kinetic, ever changing sculpture. At the end of the movement, the same musical surge that opened it came again, and Chrissy charged down the center line once more, then started changing canter leads every stride, skipping joyfully along with the music, around the arena again, skipping up the center line, then dropping instantly to a halt, bowing her head to the unseen audience as the music died. Lisa let out a deep breath. There is nothing like this, she thought for the hundredth time. There are things that are better, but there is nothing remotely like this. She smiled at Sam, sharing the moment, then, characteristically, started grading herself as she let Chrissy walk on.  
  
"I messed up the cue sequence on the lead changes at the end. That's why she missed that one. And there's something wrong with the left pirouettes. They don't quite match the right ones."  
  
"You couldn't even do pirouettes a year ago," Sam reminded her.  
  
"Don't try to give me delusions of adequacy." They grinned at each other. The phrase was one of Lisa's trainer's favorites. "I don't think I have the left hind leg engaged enough there. I'm going to work those a little more."  
  
"What time is it?" Lisa looked at Sam's watch and told her. "I'd love to watch you some more, but we do have other things to do today. I'd better get on with it." She stood up reluctantly and stepped across the low rail into the ring, approaching Chrissy. "You're incredible, princess," she said, giving the horse a pat on the neck.  
  
"She knows it," said Lisa. "Go ahead and saddle a horse. I won't work her much longer."  
  
"Right." Sam exited the ring, closing the heavy door behind her, and Lisa walked Chrissy a few more laps until the mare was breathing normally again. She then picked up a canter, extending and collecting it a few times, then went into a right pirouette, twirling around on the spot, the right hind leg as their anchor. She memorized the feeling, then cantered up the ring and went into a left one, ready to compare.  
  
Chrissy suddenly threw her head up and snorted, leaping sideways. Lisa shifted for a second in the saddle, then caught her balance and held. The mare came to a halt, her neck arched high, her ears swiveled forward so that they almost touched at the tips, trying to capture whatever she had heard and identify it.  
  
Lisa touched her lightly on the neck. "What is it, girl?" It was so odd for the mare to spook. Chrissy would bluff at times, but for her to honestly jump at something when she was focused in the middle of work was almost unheard of. Her ears still quivered, trying to catch the sound again. "I didn't hear anything," said Lisa. "Just your imagination. You're creating horse-eating monsters." She strained her own ears. Nothing.  
  
Chrissy abruptly realized that Lisa wasn't focused on the work anymore. With a snort, she dropped her head and bucked. Lisa rocked but held her seat, pulling the horse's head back up, driving her forward. "You little devil! You're the one who distracted me, you know." She drove the horse into balance again, giving her a light touch with the whip, and Chrissy, knowing she had earned it, did not protest. Their attention refocused, they worked on pirouettes for a few more minutes. Finally, Lisa walked the mare several laps, cooling her out. By the time she dismounted, she had almost forgotten about the incident.  
  
Until she opened the door to the indoor and started down the side passage toward the main aisle. A wave of restlessness came toward her from every horse in the stalls, and Chrissy felt it too and pranced, her ears flickering uneasily. They turned into the main aisle, and Lisa stumbled to a stunned halt. Sam lay crumpled at the far end of the aisle. "Sam!" she shrieked, starting forward, and Chrissy, already uneasy, was hit by her wave of panic and reared, pulling back against the reins, threatening to become a 1300-pound loose cannon. Lisa frantically looked from her motionless friend back to her horse. Years of training overruled her feelings momentarily. If Chrissy broke away, they could all be hurt. Lisa schooled her voice to an easy croon, forcing herself to be calm. "Easy, girl. It's all right." Chrissy dropped her front legs to the ground, her ears snapping forward, then back. Her own uneasiness and the smell of blood warred with the voice. "Easy, girl." The voice won. Chrissy stepped forward into Lisa's hands. Lisa walked to the nearest set of crossties as quickly as she could do it calmly, grabbing a halter at random from the front of a stall on her way. She led Chrissy into the crossties, slipped the halter on quickly over her bridle, and secured her.  
  
For the first five strides after leaving the horse, Lisa walked quietly, then broke into a stumbling run, cursing the fact that she couldn't get there faster. She dropped to her knees beside her best friend, feeling for a pulse. Sam's eyes were closed. She almost might have been asleep, except for the small hole high on the side of her forehead. She had been shot. 


	4. Hopes and Fears 4

Here's a short addition, for everyone who objected to the cliffhanger. More angst, but it at least answers your question. Sorry for the brevity, but I barely had an hour to write tonight. More soon, probably Monday. I'm working all weekend, of course. Thanks for your feedback and encouragement on this story. I really wasn't sure whether this one would appeal to anybody but me.  
  
***  
  
Comfort those who sit in darkness, Mourning 'neath their sorrow's load.  
  
Johannes Olearius, "Comfort, Comfort Ye My People"  
  
***  
  
Alexx knelt in the aisle next to Sam. "One shot, right frontal lobe. Instantly fatal, but she was looking at whoever did it. You saw it coming, didn't you, poor baby?" Alexx stroked Sam's hair back from the wound sympathetically, then looked up at Horatio when she didn't get a response to her analysis. He was standing on the other side of the body, looking down at that strong, still face, and the blazing fury in his eyes actually made Alexx pull back slightly. "Horatio. Horatio." She had to say his name twice before he looked at her. "You okay?"  
  
"I'm not the one lying there," he said tightly. He looked up, not raising his voice past that deadly quiet but extending the range of influence to include Speed and Delko. "I want every fiber, every piece of evidence, absolutely everything processed from this barn. This time, we aren't going to miss anything. And we will get these people."  
  
Alexx stood and put a hand firmly on his arm. "It's not your fault," she said softly, understanding that most of the fury was directed at himself, not the killers. His eyes met her steadily.  
  
"We cleared this scene, Alexx. I didn't think they'd come back after the first murder, but they must have left something here. We must have missed it." He knew absolutely one thing he had missed. Calleigh had told him that the lock code had been used for the night before the murder, too, but he had only asked her to check the week -before- the murder. He would verify it himself with the company, but he was certain now that the incorrect code, the code before it had been changed, the code he himself had insisted that they change that day, had been tried again the night -after- the murder. Why had he limited that question? Asking for any time it had been used lately would have told them that the killers needed something still here. And if they couldn't get in at night, they would watch for an uncrowded time to come in the day. The team missing something at the scene angered him, but it was his own oversight about the lock code that infuriated him. That was inexcusable. And now that beautiful, remarkable woman was dead because of it.  
  
"Horatio," Alexx started patiently, and she saw his expression change so quickly that it bewildered her. The flame in the eyes banked, the taut muscles forcibly relaxed a fraction. Smoldering embers were still there, but they were suddenly a lot better hidden. She turned to follow his gaze over her shoulder and saw Calleigh coming down the aisle with a field kit in hand. Instantly, Alexx understood. She knew that something was bothering Calleigh lately, flattening her usual cheerfulness, causing her to sleep poorly, although she wasn't sure what. Horatio undoubtedly knew, and he wasn't going to add concern for him to her burden. Alexx was once again lost in utter, stunned admiration of the soul of her boss. What a man. What unselfish, beautiful, loyal, pitiful bravery. She turned back to Horatio and gave his arm a squeeze again, letting him know that he wasn't fooling her. "If you need to talk, you know where to find me," she said too softly for Calleigh to hear, and Horatio's veiled eyes met hers with both appreciation for the concern and refusal of it. He would carry it alone.  
  
"Thank you, Alexx," he said, and it was an affectionate but firm dismissal. She sighed and knelt by Sam again.  
  
Calleigh joined her, snapping open the kit. "One shot, small caliber pistol. Horatio?" She looked up, puzzled, as he started up the aisle, leaving even before she had finished her analysis.  
  
"I'm going to talk to Lisa again. Fill me in later." He didn't trust himself close to her until he had had a bit more time to clamp down on his anger. She was entirely too perceptive when it came to him.  
  
"Okay." Calleigh's voice was puzzled. She looked over at Alexx, raising one eyebrow.  
  
"He thinks the team missed something." Actually, he thought that he personally had missed something. Alexx understood that, although she couldn't see what he thought he had missed. But if he wanted to play it this way, it wasn't her place to interfere. Let Calleigh try to talk some sense into him later. Once they got alone and really looked at each other, he wouldn't be able to hide from her. Then they could comfort each other past their personal demons and remind themselves that neither one of them was alone anymore. Alexx hoped it wouldn't take too long. If Calleigh had been going through some personal purgatory the last few weeks, Horatio was now going through hell. She looked at Calleigh's face, the dark circles under her eyes that she attempted to hide with makeup, then turned again to Sam with a soothing croon under her breath, channeling her concern for all of them to the one person at the moment who would not refuse it.  
  
***  
  
Lisa finished removing the tack from Chrissy and brushing her, then leaned against the horse's neck for a moment, hiding her eyes from the world. The mare turned her head as far as the crossties would permit and bumped Lisa in the back, expressing silent sympathy. Lisa straightened up and touched her horse softly, as if Chrissy was the one who needed comforting. "It's okay, Chris," she said, trying to convince herself. There were tears in her voice, but she refused to let them go further.  
  
"Lisa." She hadn't heard Horatio approaching, and his voice startled her. She jumped a mile, then automatically caught the halter as Chrissy spooked herself in response. "I'm sorry," said Horatio, finding something else to kick himself for. "I didn't mean to take you by surprise. Can I ask you a few questions?"  
  
"Yes." Her voice was oddly flat, not from lack of emotion but from excess. "I need to take the horse outside and put her in the pasture. Her stall . . ." She looked down the aisle to the activity directly in front of Chrissy's stall, then looked away suddenly. "I can't just leave her tied here."  
  
"Of course." Horatio went along with her as she led Chrissy to the main door and outside. "You were in the ring riding, you said."  
  
"Right. Sam had just left, but I wanted to work a little longer." She met his eyes briefly. "If I had gone with her . . ."  
  
"There would be two people dead instead of one," said Horatio firmly. "We're dealing with professionals here. There was nothing you could have done to change things." Lisa wasn't totally convinced, he could tell, but hopefully she would think about it and realize the truth in what he was saying.  
  
"I think Chrissy heard the shot. She spooked at something, while we were working, and she was looking at the wall between the indoor and the main aisle."  
  
"Did you hear anything yourself?"  
  
"No, but the door is pretty heavy. It blocks a lot of sound."  
  
"They might have used a silencer, too. I'd like to test that at some point, see if a person in the ring would hear a shot, with and without a silencer. We'll test it with a horse, too." He was keeping this businesslike, but his voice was full of sympathy, and that message got through. He could see the acknowledgement in her eyes.  
  
They arrived at the gate to a small pasture, and Lisa put Chrissy through, then removed the halter. The mare careened off, blasting around at a flat gallop for one lap, then lifting into a soaring, floating trot, a true athlete enjoying her own physical potential.  
  
"She is beautiful," said Horatio with a quiet reverence, and Lisa gave him a half smile. They stayed at the gate, watching the horse.  
  
"I cancelled the lessons this afternoon, but the security company is still coming to put in video cameras," said Lisa. "Do you think they'll come back?"  
  
"I don't know." Horatio wanted to reassure her, but he was afraid of being wrong twice on that question. "It probably depends on whether they found whatever they left the night of the murder. I think the video cameras are an excellent idea."  
  
"Did you find the ring?" Lisa said suddenly.  
  
"What ring?"  
  
"Sam had a ring in her pocket. Ruth brought it to us this morning. We thought maybe one of the boarders, or someone with them, had dropped it, but neither one of us had seen it before."  
  
Horatio turned from the horse to the woman, a faint point of excitement in his eyes. "She didn't have anything in her pocket. What sort of ring?"  
  
"It was thick gold, with snakes engraved into it all around. And inside the band, it had initials. A.B.E."  
  
An inscribed ring. The points of excitement fanned into flame. "That could be it. If the killers dropped it in the stall, the cat could have taken it before we got there."  
  
"She likes to steal shiny things," said Lisa.  
  
"Lisa, I'd like you to try to draw that design for us. Okay?"  
  
She looked dubious but willing. "I'll try."  
  
"One more thing," said Horatio. "We'd like a description of Sam's watch. She wasn't wearing it, and we think the killers took that, too."  
  
Lisa's eyes filled with tears, but she still fought them. "I've got her watch," she said, holding her wrist out. "Mine stopped this morning, and Sam gave me hers until we could get mine fixed." Her eyes took inventory: The watch, the horse, the barn. "She gave me so much," she said softly, and now the tears spilled over. Her shoulders began to shake. Horatio had deliberately been keeping a distance of a few feet, but he couldn't do it any longer. With infinite gentleness, careful not to trap her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him, letting her bury her face in his chest, holding her while she cried. 


	5. Hopes and Fears 5

The night is darker now, And the wind blows stronger. Fails my heart; I know not how. I can go no longer.  
  
Traditional Carol, "Good King Wenceslas"  
  
***  
  
Horatio and Lisa re-entered the barn. "I'll try to draw that ring for you," she said, heading for the side passage to the office. He turned down the main aisle. Even before he got a report from the team, there was something he had to do first. He had been annoyed with them earlier and had let them know it. That had been unjust.  
  
"Speed, Eric." He saw the quick, uncertain, nervous glance at each other as they stood to face him. "I've found out what the killers came back for, probably. It was an inscribed gold ring that was dropped in the stall, but the cat took it away and hid it before we got here. It never turned up until this morning."  
  
They relaxed a fraction. "So we didn't miss it," said Speed.  
  
"No, there was no way you could have known about it. You didn't overlook anything, and I apologize for blaming you earlier. Let's not miss anything on this one, either, though." There was no fault in his voice, just determination now.  
  
"Right, H," said Delko. "We're on it. At least this one was in the aisle. Makes it a lot easier to process." He and Speed returned to studying the area thoroughly, much more relaxed now. Calleigh was a bit further up the aisle, looking for the bullet, but she had paused to listen to Horatio, too. A deep pride in him swept through her. She could not recall a sincere apology from anyone in her family for anything during her childhood. She wondered again if Horatio was actually a dream and she would wake up in the morning without him. Enjoy it while you're having it, Cal, she told herself, and resumed her search.  
  
Alexx slipped up beside Horatio and pitched her voice too low for anyone else to hear. "So you see, you didn't miss anything."  
  
His eyes met hers unflinchingly, still angry. "They didn't miss anything. My error still stands."  
  
As much as she respected him, he could be more exasperating than her own children at times. "Horatio. . . "  
  
He pulled rank on her, something he never did. "Let me know when you have anything to report on the case, Alexx." She saw the prison bars slam shut across his eyes and almost heard the click of the lock as he buried his feelings and turned toward Calleigh.  
  
"What have you got, Cal?" All the affection and warmth for her was still in his voice, same as ever.  
  
"It was a 9 mm, looks like. Went clear through her head. I'm looking for the bullet." She suddenly spotted the golden glint at the edge of the aisle. "Here we are. 9 mm. Fired from at least a few feet away - no scorching. I'll get it back to the lab and see if we've met this gun before." She scrambled to her feet and glanced around. Speed and Eric were several feet away, still processing every foot of aisle. Alexx and one of her coworkers were zipping Sam's body into a body bag. Calleigh smiled at Horatio and pitched her voice low. "That was sweet of you, to apologize to the boys. Just when I think you can't get more perfect, you surprise me."  
  
He didn't actually say, "That's just because you don't know everything about me," but he thought it, and she saw the thought flash across his eyes, quickly suppressed. "Horatio? What's wrong?"  
  
Knowing he had to give her some kind of answer, and unable to lie outright, he looked back up the aisle to Sam. "I hate it when they die too young. She should have had most of her life ahead of her."  
  
Calleigh frowned slightly in concentration, studying him. Something wasn't right here. And she was almost certain that what she had seen for a brief second hadn't been regret but guilt. "You just said that the team didn't miss anything earlier. So it wasn't our fault."  
  
"Right," he confirmed. "It wasn't our fault." He broke eye contact, so out of character for him that it puzzled her all over again. "Why don't you ride back with Alexx? I want to take another look around here myself, and you can get started on the bullet."  
  
"Okay," she said softly. "See you back at CSI." But she was still standing there, looking after him, for several moments before she moved.  
  
Horatio carefully searched the barn again, but he found nothing, and he didn't expect to. This had been a fast, high risk crime, pulled in daylight, even if on a remote road, and they had gotten what they were after when they found the ring. There had been no reason to stick around. He came back into the main aisle just as Lisa exited the office.  
  
"This is the best I could do," she said, holding out a piece of paper. "I only saw it for a few seconds. It was unique, though."  
  
He studied the drawing. Thicker than most rings, with an intertwined double row of snakes, and the A.B.E. inside it. "Eric," he called, and Delko came over. "I want you to run this ring through the computer. See if we can get any match at all on the design."  
  
"Sure thing, H."  
  
"I'm heading back to CSI. You two finish here and let me know what you find." Delko headed back to join Speed. They were almost at the end of the aisle, now, having processed every foot of it. Horatio wished that it was dirt instead of roughened concrete. That would have given them footprints. He turned back to Lisa. "Thank you, and I'll keep in touch. If you need anything, you can call us any time, day or night. And Lisa, I am so sorry about Sam." It was an apology, not just an expression of sympathy, but she was still too stunned to hear the difference. She just gave him a tight nod of acknowledgement and turned back up the aisle.  
  
"I'd better keep working," she said. "The horses have to be taken care of, no matter what." He saw her look up and down the aisle, the weight of the business that was now hers alone starting to soak in. It was too much, physically too much for any one person to run an operation this size alone.  
  
"You could quit," he suggested softly.  
  
Her head snapped up, and her shoulders straightened. For the first time, the core of strength he had sensed in her was clearly visible. "Quit? What kind of a solution is that?"  
  
"Well, then, you'll just have to find a way to keep it going. She would want that."  
  
She nodded thoughtfully, her mind starting to work again, beginning to shake off the numbness. "Yes, she would."  
  
He gave her a sympathetic pat on the arm and went on out. As the Hummer pulled out of the drive, a van from the other direction turned in. A-1 Security was printed on the sides. They were coming to install the video cameras, now that Sam was already dead. Horatio glared at the van so viciously that the driver stiffened and nearly ran off the gravel. If you had been here just six hours earlier, he thought, this might not have happened. He couldn't be angry at the security company for long, though. Deep down, he knew that it wasn't their fault. It was his.  
  
***  
  
"Yes, the old code was tried at 12:30 AM. Only one failure. We notified a patrol car per procedure, and they took a drive by but didn't see anything."  
  
"Thank you," said Horatio insincerely and hung up. He really hadn't needed confirmation, had been sure in the first place, but the cold fact still hit him hard. Why on earth did I limit that first question? Why didn't I ask for any other time it had been used lately? If he had known the killers tried and failed to get back in after the murder, he could have warned Sam. He could have set up a guard. He could have done something. He remembered all the traffic the day after the murder. Only a suicidal criminal would try anything then. But this morning, with only the one car there, was the best shot they would have had. He remembered a conversation he had had long ago with Speed. He had asked the trace expert, "How many things do you think we miss during the course of a career?" Speed hadn't even had to consider his answer. "You? Less than anyone I know. Me? Fewer because of it." The difference is, Speed, that when we miss something, it can cost people their lives. Once is too often. If guilt kept them sharp, like he had told the fire marshall after the Club Descent blaze, he was at razor edge right now. He rested his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands, hiding his eyes, rubbing the deep scar on the right temple. It only hurt anymore when he was tired or discouraged. At the moment, he was both.  
  
"Hey, there." Adele tapped uncertainly on the door, and he raised his head.  
  
"Have you got anything?"  
  
She walked across to the chair in front of his desk. "I've got the story on our house sitter. He did some time for drug paraphernalia, got out about three months ago. The owner knows about his record, but he swore he was clean now. She is a distant relative, and she was trying to give him a second chance." She fished out a bottle of Tylenol and handed it to him.  
  
"He might be." Horatio shook out two of the pills and gulped them down with a swallow from his ever-present cup of coffee, then returned the bottle to Adele. "He was nervous, but I don't think he was high. Or in withdrawal. More likely he met somebody who had something over him, probably someone from the inside."  
  
"He's on parole but is up to date and in compliance. We really have nothing to question him on at this point. Being an ex-con isn't illegal. I gave the boys his record, though. They'll compare names and cross reference with cell mates. They're still working through that mountain of evidence from the first case." She looked thoughtful. "You know, without that ring, at the moment, there's no proof that the two murders are connected."  
  
He shook his head. "No way. They're connected."  
  
"I think so, too, but by the book, we shouldn't totally dismiss the other possibility."  
  
"To hell with the book. They're connected. Looking at them separately is a waste of time."  
  
She sighed. "I believe you. But we'll need evidence to nail the first killers for the second murder."  
  
"We'll get it." His eyes, voice, and entire body were taut. She stood up and walked around the edge of the desk to touch him lightly on the shoulder.  
  
"Don't beat yourself up too much about this. You couldn't have known about the cat and the ring. The team didn't miss anything on that first scene."  
  
"I know they didn't."  
  
Adele sighed again and left the office. She knew that anything she said would be a waste of time, but she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe Calleigh could talk some reason into him later.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh sat in the Hummer, watching the morning Miami traffic whiz by. She felt totally unrested, but for once, it hadn't been her Christmas dreams that disturbed her last night but Horatio. She looked across at him, studying his face. He looked as tired as she felt. They had worked late the night before on the case and had gone home only to fall straight into bed. He had been restless all night, though, hovering just under the edge of sleep, disturbed not by nightmares but almost, paradoxically, by the absence of them, as if his mind had tightly restricted his dreams and refused to let him fall deeply enough asleep to have them. At least his uneasiness had kept her own dreams away. She had laid beside him wondering while awake and asleep what was bothering him. Something about the case, most likely. But he had confirmed yesterday that they hadn't missed anything. No one could have foreseen the cat. So what was on his mind? They needed to talk, but should she try it when they were both so tired? Maybe they both just needed a good night's sleep. Her own dreams had probably disturbed Horatio for weeks now; it was only fair for him to keep her from resting last night.  
  
Horatio felt her eyes on him and gave her a half-hearted smile. "You okay, beautiful? You look tired."  
  
"So do you," she pointed out. "Maybe we should have made a second pot of coffee this morning."  
  
"I'm sure we can find another pot somewhere in the course of the day." The lightness in his tone was forced, somehow. Their usual repartee didn't require effort. What is wrong with you, Calleigh wondered again, and she was about to ask, tired or not, when they turned into the drive that led up to the barn, and the moment was lost. Only one vehicle was here this early - Sam's Land Rover, which they had given Lisa the keys for yesterday, since Lisa was still without a car. Horatio glanced at the vehicle as they got out of the Hummer, then turned abruptly away, and again she thought she saw guilt in his eyes for a brief instant. But if they hadn't missed anything at the first scene, what was he feeling guilty about?  
  
Inside, Lisa was grooming Chrissy. "Morning," she said flatly, not calling it good.  
  
Exactly, thought Horatio. That about sums it up. "You ready?"  
  
"Yes." She unsnapped the cross ties and led the mare toward the indoor ring. Horatio stopped to examine the door. Very heavy, as she had said. "It's made to hold a horse," said Lisa. "In case one got loose in here after throwing the rider, so it would still be confined. But it really does block sound. When I'm using music, you can't even hear it in the main aisle."  
  
He turned back to her. "Okay, what we're trying to work out here is whether the horse can, in fact, hear a shot with this door closed. Also whether the killers used a silencer. We'll try it both ways." He studied Calleigh, who was smoothly checking out a 9 mm, getting it ready. He loved watching her with a gun. He was sure that she hadn't missed anything in her work. Unlike him.  
  
Lisa, standing a bit away from them with the horse, was remembering yesterday morning, when Sam had been here, enjoying their easy, smooth friendship. At least, she had seen the Beethoven freestyle once more before she died. Lisa wished with all her heart that Sam could have ridden Chrissy just once and experienced it fully. Yet she had never resented Lisa. What a beautiful, generous, irreplaceable friend. Lisa's eyes welled up again, and she looked for something else to distract herself.  
  
Horatio was watching Calleigh, and Calleigh was engrossed in the gun. Lisa took the opportunity to study him unnoticed, remembering yesterday, when he had held her. Deep under her overpowering grief of the moment, she had felt surprise, almost wonder. Strength combined with gentleness. He had held her without seizing her, respecting her body. Her only experience with men had been force and pain. Since then, her impressions of them, even in casual meetings, were either force, the desire to dominate, or weakness of character. One frightened her; the other disgusted her. But she had never run into true strength overlaid with gentleness in a man, had not realized it existed. Maybe, if it existed here, it existed elsewhere, too. Maybe, if it was out there in the world, it was worth looking for.  
  
Calleigh finished preparing the gun, loading it with blanks. She glanced up at Lisa, intending to ask if she was ready, and froze. Lisa was studying Horatio with a calculated analysis that Calleigh recognized. Of all the little tramps! What kind of person is checking out someone else's husband just one day after her best friend has been murdered?  
  
"Ready?" asked Horatio, and it was her turn to be artificially bright, and his to wonder what on earth was wrong.  
  
"Why don't you do the shots, Horatio? I'll stay here with Lisa and listen for them." She pushed the gun at him.  
  
His blue eyes were puzzled. "What difference does it make?"  
  
"None. Go on, Horatio."  
  
It seemed to matter to her, though he couldn't for the life of him see why. He decided not to pursue it and picked up the gun. "Did you have music playing when the horse spooked, Lisa?"  
  
"No, we were just riding."  
  
"Okay. We'll try it with the silencer first, then without. Watch the horse, Calleigh." He left the ring, closing the heavy door carefully behind him, and Calleigh turned almost viciously to Lisa.  
  
"Now we just have to listen for -my husband- to fire the gun." Her cobalt eyes were icy as they locked with Lisa's. The unspoken message was all but written between them. Stay away from him, you slut. He's taken.  
  
Lisa jumped at the emphasized words and even more at the venom in Calleigh's eyes. She read the meaning under them, too. Calleigh must have caught her look at Horatio and totally misunderstood. This on top of her grief was almost too much for her to handle, and she felt the tears rising again. Damn it, she wasn't going to cry in front of this unsympathetic, paranoid, territorial wildcat. Out of long habit, she moved closer to the horse so that she would be forced to control her feelings, lest the horse sense otherwise. Chrissy had a long rope, about 30 feet long, attached to her halter, the excess coiled in Lisa's hand, and now Lisa unreeled a few turns of it. "You'd better step back, or you'll get run over. Trot, Chris."  
  
Chrissy picked up a trot instantly, circling Lisa, widening out the circle as Lisa gave her more rope. Calleigh, faced with a 1300-pound guided missile, did back off a few steps to keep from getting either run over by the horse or decapitated by the rope. "It'll be safer to have her on the lunge line, when she jumps," Lisa explained. She had been riding Chrissy yesterday. Holding her from the ground would be harder.  
  
Chrissy kept circling, and Lisa automatically put some work into it, changing the stride length, asking the horse to collect, then extend, as she orbited, the 30-foot rope acting like a telephone wire to transmit signals. It and her voice kept the mare under tight control. Abruptly, Chrissy jumped, ears snapping up, and skittered a good 15 feet, dragging Lisa along with her for a ways until she stopped. Calleigh glanced at her watch, noting the time. "I didn't hear anything. Did you?"  
  
"No," said Lisa, not looking at her. "Trot." The mare resumed her orbit. Lisa kept her eyes glued to her horse, and Calleigh studied Lisa, wondering why she felt guilty herself. She had a right to warn intruders away from her property. And Lisa had been checking Horatio out. Calleigh knew the look. So she had nothing to feel guilty about, she told herself firmly.  
  
Horatio opened the ring door. "Well?"  
  
"Whoa," said Lisa, and Chrissy halted instantly. "Come." The mare closed the distance as Lisa reeled up the rope. "She heard something. Once. We didn't."  
  
"Just once?"  
  
"Just once," said Calleigh. "9:25 AM exactly."  
  
"That was the one without the silencer. You're right, Lisa, this room really blocks sound. We'll leave you to your work, now. Thank you." Calleigh couldn't help noticing the half smile that he gave Lisa.  
  
"Thank you for your advice yesterday. You're right. She would want me to go on."  
  
"Hang in there." He stepped up to them and gave Lisa a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Hello, Chrissy." He touched the mare on the neck, and she arched her neck and snorted softly, acknowledging him. Horatio turned away. "Let's get back to CSI, Calleigh."  
  
"I didn't know you liked horses," Calleigh said as they got into the Hummer.  
  
"I've never really been around them. That one is impressive, though." For just a second, the same expression from the day of the first murder flitted across his face, like he was listening to music. Music that she couldn't hear. It was instantly replaced by the same guilt, which was just as quickly suppressed. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't want her to know it. They drove back to CSI in silence.  
  
***  
  
The rest of the day was wrapped up in processing evidence. Speed was still working on reconstructing the previous pages of the notebook. Eric had the triumph of the day when he recovered a print from Valentine's halter. "Albert Benjamin Edwards," he reported when the team met in the layout room.  
  
"A.B.E." said Horatio, and his shuttered eyes let a flame of excitement shine through.  
  
"Right. He's done some hard time for drug dealing. Just got out six months ago after ten years inside. Didn't report to his parole officer. He has a warrant now, but no known address."  
  
"Was he ever in with the house sitter?"  
  
"They were in the same cell block right toward the end."  
  
Horatio's head tilted slightly as he thought it through. "Okay, so Edwards was the one holding Valentine. He had to take off his gloves to put the halter on, and his ring came off in the process. No address at all?"  
  
"Nothing," said Eric. "I'm cross referencing with others who were inside with him. Nothing so far. Nothing yet on the ring, either."  
  
Horatio abruptly noted how tired Eric looked. How tired all of them looked, in fact. Everyone had been here until nearly midnight last night. "All right, people, I want all of us to go home."  
  
"Really?" Speed roused enough to look hopeful.  
  
"Really. We're all worn out, and we're too liable to miss something. And we aren't going to miss anything." A razor edge sliced across his voice for a second. "Let's get some down time and tackle it fresh in the morning."  
  
Eric and Speed left instantly, before he could change his mind, and Horatio walked over to Calleigh and touched her gently. "Us, too. You look half dead."  
  
"Thank you, sir," she retorted. "You look pretty beat, yourself."  
  
"We both need a good night's sleep tonight," he agreed, but his eyes were suddenly elsewhere again.  
  
"I've only got about half an hour left on this ballistics report, Horatio. I'm almost done running the gun through the system. No match yet. Can I have your supervisory permission to just finish this one thing?"  
  
He chuckled, back with her now. "Just that one. Promise me, Cal. Repeat after me, I will not start another job, no matter what."  
  
"I will not start another job, no matter what," she recited dutifully and grinned at him.  
  
"Actually," he said, "I've got a quick errand to run myself. I think I'll go on and meet you at home. You'll probably beat me, though. Mall traffic will be awful. Only four more shopping days before Christmas."  
  
"You're going shopping? What for?"  
  
He smiled at her, almost looking like his old self. "None of your business," he quoted. "At least, not yet."  
  
***  
  
Calleigh dutifully went home after finishing the one report, but as he had predicted, Horatio wasn't there yet. She started supper, amusing herself with the image of him shopping. He still wasn't home when she had it done, though, and after waiting another half hour, she ate alone, tucking his share back into the fridge to be reheated later. The lines must really be long, she thought. Still, it's the Christmas rush. She decided to take a shower while she was waiting.  
  
When she came out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, he still wasn't there. Poor man, trying to shop alone, she thought. She curled up on the couch with a book to wait for him. She didn't go back into the kitchen, so she didn't notice the blinking red light on the answering machine on the counter. Slowly, her eyes drifted shut.  
  
Calleigh came awake with a jerk from the dream of her 7th Christmas. Her perfect family had been smashed, crushed to popsicle stick bits by her father, and she could never put them back together again. "Horatio," she called desperately between her sobs, but he wasn't there. The whole house was silent. Calleigh collapsed back onto the couch crying. Finally, the storm passed. She rolled off the couch, onto her feet, and walked to the window to look out. It had turned chilly again, and it was raining, a driving, cold rain that matched her spirits. Horatio, where are you? I need you. She turned back and looked around the living room. The Christmas tree glowed softly, the presents perfect, the furniture friendly, but she just couldn't convince herself it was real without him. "You're awake now," she repeated out loud. "This Christmas is going to be different." But her hopes were smaller than her fears without his presence.  
  
She wandered restlessly around the living room but still didn't go into the kitchen. Pictures of his family were here. All sorts of evidence that she hadn't dreamed him. Unless she still was dreaming. She pinched herself and yelped. Nope, she wasn't dreaming. Unless she had only dreamed that she had pinched herself. Snap out of it, Cal, she told herself firmly. She sat down at the piano, studying the picture of Horatio's mother on top of it, then clumsily tried to pick out a tune, trying to bring Horatio closer by doing something that was close to him. Her fingers were unskilled, though. Besides, harmony cannot be found alone. Her counterpart that completed her chord was not there.  
  
Calleigh turned back restlessly from the piano, looking at the Christmas tree again. The little clock on the wall cleared its mechanical throat and began to chime. Ten. Where on earth was he? Lines or not, this was ridiculous. The stores would be closing.  
  
What if he wasn't at the stores? A cold dagger of fear stabbed through her heart. What if he was somewhere else instead, with someone else? What if he was with Lisa? "That's crazy," she said firmly to herself. "Horatio adores me." Still, that voice of doubt kept gnawing. She thought of her friend's husband, seemingly the perfect match, having an affair with his secretary for six years before he was discovered. Horatio had not been himself since the case at the barn started. She remembered leaving it that first morning, when he had been lost in thought, not focused on the case at all. When she had asked what he was thinking of, he had said something about dancing horses, then changed the subject abruptly. There was also the guilt of the last few days. She knew suddenly, unquestionably, that it was guilt. Furthermore, guilt he was trying to hide from her. He himself had confirmed that the team had missed nothing on the case. What else was there to feel guilty about? And why would he need to hide it from her? Also, Lisa had been checking him out that morning if Calleigh had ever seen it. They were out there together. Horatio had simply found someone who was a better match for him. And the popsicle house came crashing down.  
  
Now don't jump to conclusions, Cal. You're a CSI. Study the evidence. When she tried to think through it calmly, though, it all seemed to add up to only one thing. She had known all along that she couldn't keep him, that he deserved better. If only he was here, so she could confront him directly and force an answer out of him. If her happiness was over, she wanted to know. She didn't want it dragged out for months while he was sneaking around behind her back. She settled back down on the couch. She would wait here for him to come home, and when he finally got here, she would confront him. She wouldn't jump to conclusions. She would just calmly, collectedly ask him where the hell he had been and with whom. And why he hadn't even called her to manufacture an excuse. The rain kept pounding down outside, and the chill seeped through the walls into the house, but her heart was far colder than her body. She curled up into a ball on the couch, waiting for him. 


	6. Hopes and Fears 6

"Through the rude winds' wild lament And the bitter weather."  
  
Traditional carol, "Good King Wenceslas"  
  
***  
  
A warm softness suddenly descended from the chill, enveloping her like a child. Calleigh gave a contented murmur and snuggled down into the warmth momentarily. Full memory returned with wakefulness, and her eyes snapped open. She was still on the couch, with a fleecy blanket tucked gently over her now, and she could hear him through the kitchen door behind her. She sat bolt upright, clutching the blanket around her like the fading wisps of a pleasant dream.  
  
"Horatio!" She had never in all their acquaintance made his name sound like that. He snapped around to face her. "It's time we had a talk. Just where do you think you've been?" She glanced at her watch - 11:00 PM - and nailed him again with her eyes.  
  
He made a rare error in perception, an error she would be forever grateful for, and mistook anger for concern. "Didn't you get my message?"  
  
A balloon stuck with a pin would not have deflated faster. "What message?" She shed the blanket and scrambled to her feet, joining him in the kitchen. Together they looked at the red light blinking on the counter. "You must have called while I was taking a shower, I guess." She suddenly wasn't sure of anything anymore. "I didn't see it."  
  
"And all this time you didn't know . . . I'm sorry, Cal." He stepped across to hug her, and she realized something suddenly. In fact, she couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it sooner.  
  
"You're wet!" He was, absolutely drenched, not just like he had darted through the rain to the house but like he had gone swimming fully clothed. She gripped his arm through his sodden sleeve and could feel the tremors that swept over him. "You're freezing! What on earth have you been doing?" She took a quick inventory of the rest of him. He seemed to be intact, just cold. She could almost hear his teeth chattering.  
  
"There was an accident," he started. "Not with me, but right in front of me. A car went into the canal, and I pulled it out with the Hummer."  
  
She interrupted him. "You jumped into the canal? In December?"  
  
"They would have drowned. The roof was caved in around the windows, and I couldn't get the door open." A pool was forming under him on the kitchen floor. Calleigh shook herself, like a person waking from a nightmare, and became once again the calm, competent bullet girl her coworkers knew.  
  
"Horatio, go take a hot shower. Now! You've got to get warmed up."  
  
He glanced back to the counter. "I was just about to make some hot coffee."  
  
"I'll make it. Move!" She shoved him toward the hall. Once she had heard the click of the bathroom door, she crossed to the answering machine and pushed the button. His voice, his wonderful, velvet voice, filled the room. "Calleigh, I've been delayed at an accident. I'm fine; I wasn't in it. But I'm helping out at the scene, and the extrication is going to take a while. Don't wait up for me." She started to hit erase, then hesitated and listened to it again. Why on earth hadn't she come in here to check for messages after taking her shower? She decided not to erase this one but to save the tape, to remind her that he was real. Then, she decided to erase it after all. She had a better reminder to hold onto. When he had come in as a human icicle, his first action had been to cover her with a blanket. How utterly Horatio. She might have been dreaming earlier, but she knew she was awake now.  
  
She worked quickly, making coffee. She poured them each a steaming cup and put a few good slugs of whisky into his. On second thought, she gave herself a bit, too. Horatio emerged from the shower wrapped in his robe now, but he was still shivering slightly. They sat at the kitchen table, and she passed him his cup of coffee. He took a gulp, and his eyes widened. "Drink it," she said firmly. "Now." He finished the cup off, and she fixed him another like it. She retrieved the blanket he had covered her with from the couch and draped it over his shoulders.  
  
"Put on your robe, Cal. You look cold, too." She considered protesting but didn't want him to expend the energy. She got her robe and came back to the kitchen as he finished his second cup of coffee. He had almost stopped shivering now. "I'm sorry you didn't get the message. You must have been frantic."  
  
She was stunned to realize that she hadn't been. What on earth was wrong with her lately? She filed that question to consider later, too focused on him at the moment to spare the thought. She poured him another cup of coffee. "So tell me about the accident."  
  
He wrapped both hands around the coffee cup on the table. "I was coming back from the mall, driving along the canal, and a car right in front of me blew a tire. It was going a bit too fast anyway. The roads are slick out there. So it flipped down the bank into the canal. I tried to get the people out, but the doors wouldn't open, and the roof had crunched down the windows. Luckily, there was a tow rope in the Hummer. So I hooked it up and pulled them back onto the bank. They still couldn't get out though. Two people, a woman and her 6-year-old kid. They were frantic. They wanted me to stay with them, and the extrication took three hours." He took another gulp of coffee.  
  
Three hours, standing out there in a cold driving rain, after diving into the canal. In December. "Were they hurt badly?"  
  
"No. The woman had a broken ankle. The girl had some cuts, probably needs a few stitches. They were just scared, and soaked through, of course. I left you the message, but I couldn't leave. The girl kept panicking every time I wasn't right there. She was terrified that they were going to slide back into the canal and drown before they could get out." He shivered again. "I am sorry about that message, Calleigh. I should have tried to call again later, I guess. What was it you wanted to talk about?"  
  
Deeply humbled, she bowed her head and studied her own cup of coffee. "Not tonight. We'll talk later."  
  
***  
  
Calleigh woke up five minutes before the alarm clock would have gone off. Her first thought was for Horatio, and she rolled over quickly to check on him. He was deeply asleep and didn't even stir when she lightly put a hand on his forehead. No fever, not yet, anyway, and his breathing was even and unlabored. Maybe he hadn't given himself pneumonia last night. He just felt pleasantly warm, not hot and no longer, thankfully, cold. It had taken him forever to get warmed up last night. They had huddled together under the covers, Calleigh trying to warm him up with her body, and even after the shower and coffee, his legs and feet felt icy. Then, when he had finally warmed up enough to get to sleep, he had had nightmares about the death of his father. That accident had also involved a car flipping off the road, only it had taken hours for anyone to find them, hours that Horatio, at age 7, had spent trapped with his dead father. More hours had been spent prying the car open enough to get to them. Calleigh had held him, trying to warm him up and soothe him simultaneously, and finally, about 2:30 AM, he had fallen into a sound sleep. She hadn't had any dreams at all, herself. Her entire consciousness had been focused on him. Still, she had slept soundly once he had, and she felt more rested than she had in weeks. She quickly squelched the alarm clock before it could disturb him and lay back, watching him, for a heart-to-heart conversation with herself.  
  
She was absolutely appalled at what she had almost done last night. Looking at Horatio, reminded of who he was, she knew that her fears were groundless. One thing she could always count on was his rock solid integrity. If he ever did meet anyone who replaced her in his affections, he would tell her so. Besides, hearing the affection in his voice last night, his consideration for her in the message, remembering how his first move had been to cover her with a blanket, she knew that his feelings for her hadn't changed. Still, something was bothering him. Probably he hadn't wanted to tell her out of consideration for her, knowing that her Christmas memories already had her on edge. He had an incredibly strong, almost too strong at times, protective streak. Later on, when she had a chance, she would nail him down and drag whatever it was out of him. She was glad he had stopped her before she had gone too far last night, though. He probably would have forgiven her for the accusation, but wounds that are forgiven still bleed.  
  
So why had she jumped to that conclusion? Why were her Christmas dreams so much stronger this Christmas, when she had him, than all the previous ones without him? What was wrong with her? She gradually sifted through the fears, doubts, and old memories and finally reached the core issue. She was afraid of losing him, afraid that some cosmic clock would strike twelve and her newfound happiness would vanish. It was this, not Christmases 20 years ago, that bothered her so much this year. She memorized his face, reaching out to take his temperature again. This is real, she told herself firmly. If I have to recite it a hundred times a day, I will. I am not going to throw away the best thing that ever happened to me just because I've never had it before and I'm not sure I deserve it.  
  
Feeling a little better now that she at least knew what she was fighting, she slipped out of bed. She moved quietly, but Horatio still never stirred. She switched off the ringer on the bedroom phone, then gathered her clothes for the day and closed the bedroom door behind her as she left. Once in the kitchen, she ran through Horatio's agenda for today while fixing herself breakfast. Horatio and Eric had been meeting Adele this morning to talk to the house sitter again, leaning on him a little, trying to get an admission that he had seen Albert Edwards lately. They were also going to process the house thoroughly, with full permission now. If they could find Edwards' fingerprint anywhere, they had a conclusive link. Well, Adele and Eric could do it alone. She called Adele, then ate breakfast herself. She wrote a note and left it propped on the table. "Horatio, Adele isn't expecting you this morning. You're already late, so take time to eat. All my love, Calleigh." She slipped into the bedroom again to check on him just before she left. He was dead to the world. She kissed him gently, then left, carefully closing the bedroom door behind her so he wouldn't hear the kitchen phone if it rang. She deliberately made herself hum Christmas carols as she drove to CSI.  
  
***  
  
"You're in a good mood this morning," called Alexx, as Calleigh went humming past her in the hall. She had just finished talking to Eric and was now heading for her own work in ballistics. She turned to face her friend, smiling.  
  
"I've just decided that I am going to enjoy Christmas this year. I've got a lot to be thankful for, you know." When Alexx looked at people, they always had the feeling she saw far underneath the surface. Calleigh submitted to her inspection and grinned. "Are you satisfied?"  
  
"Yes," Alexx decided. Calleigh looked more rested, and more at peace, than she had in weeks. Alexx immediately looked around for the probable cause and found him missing. "Where's Horatio? Didn't you come in together?"  
  
"He's sleeping in this morning."  
  
Alexx's expression changed instantly to concern. That had never happened, in all the years she had known him. "He's not sick, is he?"  
  
"If he isn't, it'll be a miracle, but I think he's just asleep." Calleigh filled her friend in on the events of last night, and Alexx immediately switched into professional mode.  
  
"He didn't have a fever, did he?"  
  
"No. Breathing nice and easy. He just seemed to be totally out, so I left him there. It took him forever to get warmed up enough to sleep last night, and he was tired anyway before the accident."  
  
"Probably the best thing for him, then."  
  
"That's what I thought. He'll be mad at me when he wakes up, though. He's missing out on Adele questioning our house sitter again."  
  
Alexx shifted a little closer in the hallway, tightening their conversation to a different level. "Are you two okay?" The warmth of her concern reached out and touched Calleigh.  
  
"I think so. I just need to remind myself of how much I've got now. And as for Horatio, I'm going to pin him down as soon as I get a chance and make him talk to me, but last night wasn't the right time."  
  
Alexx nodded wisely. "He needs to be pushed a little, I think. But by you. He sure didn't react well when I tried it."  
  
Calleigh felt a quick stab of guilt that Alexx had tried it, while she herself hadn't, then determinedly shoved it down. "I'll pry it out of him, whatever it is. We are both looking forward to dinner at your place on the 24th. I hope we get this case wrapped up before then, though."  
  
"I hope so too, honey," said Alexx. "At least we can give that poor woman's family some closure on Christmas. And her friend."  
  
Calleigh remembered Lisa abruptly and again felt guilty. "I hope so, Alexx. I've got to get to work." She proceeded down the hall, now humming, "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas."  
  
***  
  
Calleigh spent the entire morning finishing her work with the bullet that killed Sam. The computer search she'd finished the night before had turned up no record for the gun that fired this bullet. Now, she was trying to recreate the scene. Working with a similar 9 mm, human head forms, and the measurements from the crime scene, she determined that the killer had been about 10 feet away from Sam when he fired. She frowned slightly, sensing something there that fluttered just beyond her grasp. That was a bit farther than usual for a hardened criminal execution, and Sam had been looking at him, not running. What should that tell her?  
  
Her stomach rumbled right then, telling her she was hungry. She was surprised to discover it was 1:00 PM. She ordered a pizza, then resumed working on her calculations, double checking them. Her pizza arrived, and she was just finishing her third piece when she felt Horatio. Like the force of the tide can be felt long before the waves hit the shore, she felt him before he swept into the room. She turned around to face the door as he entered. The angry glint in his blue eyes made him especially handsome, she decided.  
  
"Good morning," she said, although it was now 1:45 in the afternoon. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Late," he replied. "Why on earth didn't you wake me up? I was supposed to meet Adele."  
  
"You were exactly where you needed to be," she said. "Did you eat anything?" He shook his head. "Sit." She pushed him down herself onto the adjoining chair and shoved the pizza box over to him. "Eat. You're finishing it off."  
  
"I need to get to work. I'm late enough already." She stopped his protest by cramming the end of a slice of pizza into his mouth herself. His hands came up to grasp it, and she slid her hand over his forehead as she let go. He still wasn't running a fever, at least.  
  
"And, while you're eating," she continued, "you can tell me what's been bothering you the last few days." He started to put her off, and she nailed him with all the force in her petite frame. "You might as well tell me. You aren't getting out of here to work until you come clean."  
  
He studied her up and down, then grinned. "You're feeling better today."  
  
"Yes, I am. And don't change the subject. Out with it." He finished his first slice, and she handed him another one. He studied the pepperoni like it was evidence in a case. "Well?"  
  
"It's about the lock code."  
  
"The code from the barn?" He nodded. "What about it?"  
  
"Remember I asked you to find out if it had been used the week before the murder?"  
  
"Right, and it had. Nice deduction, I thought."  
  
"It was also used the night after the murder. Only it failed, because I told them to change the code that day. If I'd asked about the night after, I would have known the killers had left something there."  
  
She understood it instantly. "Horatio, that's not your fault. None of the rest of us would have even thought about asking about any other days."  
  
He finished off his second slice. "I did think of asking for other days. I just limited the question too far." His eyes met hers evenly, and she saw the torment there. "I'm a CSI. I'm supposed to be able to frame questions about evidence so that I check all the possibilities."  
  
She passed him a third piece. "Horatio, if you knew they weren't done at the barn, how do you know it would have made a difference? You said they passed on the first day because it was too busy. So do you think they would have marched up if you'd had a SWAT team there waiting? They would have just waited for an opportunity. Maybe even tackled one of the girls alone, away from the barn, if the barn was secured. Where this case went wrong was when a cat ran off with part of the evidence. And you yourself said that wasn't our fault." That reminded her of something. "By the way, you also said yourself that you hadn't missed anything. I even asked you about it later."  
  
He looked slightly abashed. "No, I said that the team hadn't missed anything. And they didn't. I did."  
  
Calleigh stared at him. "I guess I'm going to have to work myself on not limiting my questions." She was rewarded with a faint smile. "I might as well blame myself. I was the one who asked the security company that limited question at first. I should have seen it was limited."  
  
That jolted him. "No, it wasn't your fault, Cal."  
  
"Or yours," she insisted. She passed him another piece of pizza. "Horatio, do you remember what you said to Speed after the dispo day incident? You told him that he was still a good officer who had just made a mistake. And Speed's mistake was a lot bigger than yours. He failed to fulfill a basic responsibility of his job. Any cop should keep his weapon in shape. I know Speed isn't really a cop at heart, and that probably had something to do with it, but still, it was a big lapse on his part." She locked eyes with him squarely, wanting him to feel the force of her next words. "But there has never been one day of your life that you failed in your responsibilities to your job or to anyone else. There still hasn't. You made a mistake, but you don't know that it would have changed everything. You can't do this job in hindsight, Horatio; you'll drive yourself crazy. And you can't drive yourself crazy, because I need you. I'd be lost without you."  
  
He looked at her for a moment. The unwavering trust and respect in her eyes healed him. He slowly stood up and pulled her up off her chair, wrapping his arms around her. "Calleigh," he murmured against her hair. "What on earth would I do without you?"  
  
She returned his embrace full force. "We aren't going to find out. Okay?"  
  
"I am sorry about last night," he said as they broke apart.  
  
"So am I." For a lot more than you're ever going to know. "Just don't you dare come down with pneumonia, okay?" She shoved him back down onto his chair. "There's one piece left. Take it."  
  
He looked at her with a glint in his eye, then pulled out his pocket knife and carefully cut the remaining piece precisely down the middle, handing her half. She grinned back at him and dropped into her own chair again, taking the pizza.  
  
"Your turn," he said as they munched.  
  
"My turn what?"  
  
"Why is Christmas so difficult for you this year? And I know it's more than just your family. That's bad enough, God knows, but I've known you through more than one Christmas, and it's never been this bad."  
  
"I'm just so happy this year," she said. "I'm afraid I'm going to lose it and go back to the unhappiness. I guess I'm just going to take some convincing that you're real."  
  
He smiled at her. "You can stick a pin in me, if you like."  
  
"There are better tests," she said, standing up again and kissing him. "Just don't mind if I need a lot of reassurance."  
  
"Reassure yourself any time." That incredible voice sent shivers down her spine. She kissed him again, then reluctantly broke away.  
  
"Much as I'd like more, um, reassurance, we really do need to get to work. As you yourself pointed out, we're late." She started to reach for a napkin, to wipe the tomato sauce from her hands, and he stopped her. Capturing both hands at the wrist, he gently licked off her fingers, one at a time. Finishing on the last finger, he stood up himself.  
  
"Back to work then. For now."  
  
"For now," she agreed. He kissed her again, then left the ballistics lab. Calleigh, turning back to work, realized after a few minutes that she was humming Christmas carols again. And this time, it hadn't been an effort. 


	7. Hopes and Fears 7

"Do you know what I know?"  
  
Traditional carol, "Do You Hear What I Hear?"  
  
***  
  
The Hummer navigated the Miami traffic like a shark swimming in a school of smaller fish, the other cars giving way respectfully. Horatio reached the house of Valentine's owner and pulled to the curb behind Adele's car. She exited the house while he was still halfway up the sidewalk. "H, you okay?" She knew the question would annoy him, but she honestly wanted to know.  
  
"Fine," he said shortly. "What's been happening?"  
  
"Eric and Speed are processing the house. Nothing so far. I'm not getting anywhere with our house sitter. He hasn't seen anything, doesn't know anything, never saw Albert Edwards since getting out. Of course, he's lying, but he won't budge."  
  
"You think it would make any difference to have two people questioning him?"  
  
"Good cop, bad cop? No. I think he's more afraid of Edwards than he is of us."  
  
Horatio considered. "Could be. He's not a big-time crook, from his record. Not in Edwards' league. This will be his first accessory to murder charge."  
  
"If we can prove it." Adele was dedicated to her job, but she didn't let it eat under her skin the way he did. You did the best you could do, and that was the best you could do.  
  
He glared at her. "We'll prove it. But probably you're right. If he's that scared, he won't turn state's evidence on them until we have a definite link to tie him in, one he can see." He turned back to look at the twitching curtain across the street. "Did you find out who lives there?"  
  
"Gratia Cummings, 82-year-old widow."  
  
"82-year-old widow," Horatio repeated thoughtfully. "That's perfect." He turned his back on the house sitter and headed across the street. Adele sighed and followed him. Technically, the detective should have the lead over the CSI, but it never worked that way with Horatio. His results spoke for themselves, though.  
  
The widow had seen them coming, of course, but she had to put on an act, waiting for the doorbell, then approaching after several seconds, making it look like she had been busy. Her body was stooped, and she walked with a cane, but the beady eyes were as alert as a robin's. "Mrs. Cummings?" Horatio put on his best respectful, courtly demeanor.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'm Horatio Caine, and this is Detective Sevilla, Miami-Dade PD. Could we talk to you for a minute?"  
  
"Oh my goodness, I've never talked to the police before. What is it about?"  
  
"We're just looking for someone observant who might be able to help us." He accented observant and help ever so slightly, and the subliminal stroke to her pride was received.  
  
"Well, anything I can do, of course. Come in, come in." If it was possible to bustle at a slow limp with a cane, she did, leading the way to the kitchen table. Horatio glanced back at the window facing the street. A comfortable chair was sideways next to it, along with a pair of binoculars on the small table nearby. This is perfect, he thought again. Albert Edwards had been wise to choose the barn for a criminal rendezvous over that house. Horatio would back Gratia Cummings against Edwards any day.  
  
"Sit down, sit down," she fluttered. "Now, I'll just make us all some hot tea. Won't that be nice?"  
  
Adele opened her mouth to refuse the offer, and Horatio cut her off. "That would be delightful." Mrs. Cummings smiled at him and turned to rummage in the cabinets. Adele looked at Horatio, then shook her head slightly, effectively surrendering any pretense of control over this interview.  
  
Mrs. Cummings filled the kettle carefully and set it on the stove. Her hands were gnarled with arthritis, but Horatio didn't offer to do it for her. She would have been offended. Once it was heating, she dropped into the third chair at the table with a slight groan. "I declare, every winter, my arthritis gets worse. Wouldn't think it would bother me in Florida, but it does. You young people can't imagine what you'll have to put up with as you get old. Now, then, young man, what did you want my help with?"  
  
Horatio, who couldn't remember the last time he had been called young man, smiled at her sweetly. "We're interested in a Ford Explorer that might have been at the house across the street recently." He would trust Calleigh's guess on the vehicle make.  
  
"Let me think. They're away on vacation, you know. And that young man house sitting, I don't like his looks at all. Weak chin. My mother always told me, never trust a man with a weak chin."  
  
"Excellent advice," said Horatio. She eyed him assessingly, but apparently his chin passed inspection.  
  
"There was a night about a week ago, I think. It's hard to remember dates, of course." The tea kettle sang behind her, and she heaved herself back up with musical accompaniment to fix the tea in three china cups. She placed a cup ceremoniously in front of each of her guests, then painfully settled herself again. "I had a hip replacement a year ago, and I declare, it's worse now than it was before. Should have just left well enough alone, I guess. Now about the Explorer. It was last Thursday night, 9:05 PM. It came with one man driving."  
  
"What did he look like?" asked Horatio.  
  
"Dark hair with a beard. My mother always told me, never trust a man with a beard. They use them, you know, to hide weak chins." She eyed Horatio's features again, and Adele, across the table, suddenly progressed from impatience to enjoyment. This interview was worth seeing. She settled back and sipped her tea.  
  
"Your mother was a very wise woman," said Horatio. "I'm sure she passed along her wisdom to her daughter, too." Mrs. Cummings tittered self- consciously, and Horatio reached across to Adele's file, removing the picture of Edwards. "Mrs. Cummings, was this the man?"  
  
"Oh goodness gracious me, it is. I only saw him in the street light, but I'd swear on a stack of Bibles." She studied the prisoner information printed across the bottom. "I knew he wasn't a nice man. The minute I saw him, I said, if my mother were here, she'd have all sorts of things to say about this one. It wasn't just the beard. He looked all around, all ways up and down the street. Don't ever trust a man who looks all around like he's still afraid his mother's watching him."  
  
Horatio kept both eyes glued to her face attentively and didn't even look at the tea he was sipping. "What did the man do, after he looked around furtively?"  
  
"Furtively!" She cackled like a hen. "That's a good word. My mother would have liked that one. He went up to the door and rang the doorbell. Rang it three times. Then the house sitter opened the door. He didn't want to let him in, and the dark man pushed him back inside. Then he followed him in. They stayed in the house for 1 hour 23 minutes." She must have felt Adele's look, because she turned to her for the first time. "It's not that I was snooping, of course, but I needed to keep an eye on the time so I'd know when to take my next pill. For my arthritis, you know." She turned back to Horatio, and her tone sweetened again. "The man came out alone, and he stood by the Explorer and looked up and down the street - furtively." She eyed him for approval, and he nodded in a pleased way.  
  
"You're very perceptive, Mrs. Cummings. Your mother taught you well." He's enjoying this, thought Adele. Horatio was, actually. He had never known his own grandparents, and this feisty 82-year-old appealed to him irresistibly. "Did the car come back any time in the next few days? No, did it come back at any point at all since then?" His expression changed slightly, for just a second, as he broadened the question.  
  
"It drove by the next morning. It was 5:32 AM. I don't spend my time spying on the neighborhood, but I couldn't sleep because of my arthritis, so I was looking at my watch, so I'd know when to take my next pill. It just drove by real slow, and the same man was looking around furtively. I saw the beard in the street light. Don't ever trust a man with a beard, my mother said. It just went on by after a minute. I haven't seen it again to this day. No other Explorers, either. It's a residential neighborhood; you don't just drive through. Most of the traffic here belongs here."  
  
"Could you describe the Explorer, Mrs. Cummings?"  
  
"It was dark blue, solid all over. Looked fairly new. It was shining, in the street lights. But it did have a busted taillight on the left side."  
  
He leaned forward a bit. "Do you remember the license plate?"  
  
She was offended. "Mr. Caine, I am not a busybody! Why on earth would I sit here looking at people's license plates? Mind your own business, that's what my mother always taught me." She glared at him. He met her gaze evenly, refusing to be furtive or weak-chinned, and she smiled at him again after a minute. "It started with S, though. I happened to notice that. Just by chance, you know."  
  
"Of course." Horatio finished his tea and stood up. "Mrs. Cummings, you are a remarkably observant citizen and a very coherent witness. I congratulate you on your perception and your sense of duty." She extended her hand to him, and he bowed over it like she was royalty. Adele preceded him down the hall to the door. Once outside by the cars, she nearly fell over laughing.  
  
"Adele," said Horatio. She looked back at him, and he jerked his head slightly toward the house they had left and the twitching curtain. "Smile. You're on Candid Camera."  
  
***  
  
After checking in with Speed and Delko - nothing so far but slow going - and a brief and totally unproductive second conversation with the house sitter, who was indeed terrified, Horatio and Adele drove back in their separate vehicles to CSI. They were deep in conversation as they exited the elevator, and they nearly ran over Calleigh. "Sorry, Cal," said Horatio. "Any luck on your end?"  
  
"Bits and pieces, but I can't make anything out of them. I was about to go looking for you, actually. I've gone over those measurements from the crime scene twenty different ways, and it still comes out the same. The shooter was about 10 feet from Sam when he took the shot."  
  
Horatio frowned thoughtfully. "That's odd."  
  
"I thought so too. That ought to tell me something, but I don't know what."  
  
"Argument shootings or force shootings, like they were snatching the ring, would be a lot closer range. And she wasn't running. Alexx said she was looking at them. It's almost like the scenario changed. A casual conversation that suddenly became menacing." He mulled that one over for a minute, Calleigh and Adele waiting in respectful silence. Finally, he shook his head. "We haven't got all the pieces yet. That means something, though. They weren't just grabbing the ring. On another front, Calleigh, you were right about the Explorer. The house sitter's neighborhood has a far better security system than the barn ever did. The woman across the street saw everything. Exact times, quite a good description. She identified him from the mug shot." He pulled the photo out of Adele's folder, and they all studied him again. "Of course, he would have noticed her, too. That's why they picked the barn for a meeting. You couldn't sneak a mouse into that block without her seeing you. We've got a good description of the car, though, and a partial license plate. We can work on that."  
  
They bent over the file together, discussing it, and none of them noticed the man who exited the elevator. He glanced around - uncertainly, not furtively - then crossed to the reception desk.  
  
"May I help you?" asked Claudia.  
  
"I'm looking for Lieutenant Horatio Caine."  
  
"He's right over there. Horatio!" He looked over at her, and she gestured toward the man. Horatio broke away from the conversation and started toward them, but the stranger met him more than halfway.  
  
"Lieutenant Caine?"  
  
"Yes. May I help you?"  
  
"You already have." The man took a deep breath. "I'm Steven Johnson. Karen Johnson's husband. Linda's father."  
  
The light dawned. "Of course. Are they all right? The ambulance crew didn't think their injuries were serious."  
  
"They're fine. Thanks to you. I just wanted to shake your hand." He captured it, actually, and halfway pumped it off. "Thank you. You saved their lives."  
  
"I'm glad I was there to help." Calleigh and Adele came up curiously to flank him. "This is my wife, Calleigh. Detective Sevilla. This is Steven Johnson, the husband of the woman who was in the accident last night."  
  
Johnson let go of Horatio's hand long enough to capture Calleigh's. "I'm glad to meet you, Mrs. Caine. Your husband was incredible last night." He switched his grip back to Horatio. "I know thank you doesn't seem like enough, but thank you."  
  
"How are they doing?" asked Horatio.  
  
"Karen has a broken ankle. She had surgery this morning. No other injuries except a few bruises. She'll be home for Christmas, they say. Linda should be released later tonight. She only had some cuts and a mild concussion, and they wanted to observe her for a day, just to make sure she was recovering. That was an awfully chilly night for a dunking." Horatio shivered again in memory, and Johnson immediately grabbed his hand again. "Of course, you know that. Linda said you told her every time she complained how cold it was that you were just as cold as she was, so she wasn't feeling it alone. Are you okay, yourself?"  
  
"I'm fine," said Horatio. "Nothing a hot shower wouldn't fix." Calleigh glared at him.  
  
"Again, thank you. Our Christmas will be happy this year because of you." Johnson's eyes suddenly noticed the file Adele was still holding, with the photo on top of it. "Why do you have a picture of Henry?"  
  
Horatio's eyes leaped into flame. "Henry? You know him as Henry?"  
  
"Right. Henry Eddington, my little sister's boyfriend. I must say, I don't like him, though. He makes my skin crawl. Is that a prison shot?"  
  
Adele stepped into the conversation. "Yes. Mr. Johnson, let me get this straight. You know this man as Henry Eddington?" He nodded. "When did you last see him?"  
  
"About two weeks ago."  
  
"Does he have a blue Ford Explorer with a busted left taillight?"  
  
"Yes, he does. How did you know about the taillight?"  
  
Horatio's whole body was consumed with quiet excitement now. "Mr. Johnson, could we talk to you at length? This could be critical to an investigation."  
  
Johnson nodded again. "Of course. I'd do anything I can to help you. Could I call the hospital, first though, to let Karen and Linda know I'll be a little late?"  
  
"Certainly. Claudia will let you use her phone." Johnson returned to the reception desk. Horatio waited until he had picked up the phone, then turned back to Calleigh and Adele, his eyes shining like blue diamonds.  
  
"I think we finally caught a break on this case. As much effort as we put into it, once in a while a clue just falls into our laps, and we do nothing for it. We'll take them any way we can, right ladies?" Too excited to stand still, he walked to the desk to pick up his messages from Claudia. Adele and Calleigh were left staring at each other.  
  
"Did he just say do nothing for it?" asked Adele finally.  
  
"Yep," Calleigh confirmed. "He half freezes himself to death, and he calls it doing nothing." She looked at him with equal measures of admiration and exasperation, a combination she'd never fully understood before knowing Horatio.  
  
Adele shook her head fondly. "He's definitely one of a kind."  
  
"Cal, Adele, come on," Horatio called impatiently. Johnson had finished with his phone call and joined him. He was still looking at Horatio with overwhelming gratitude. Horatio was absolutely intent now, a bloodhound on the track, focused on the case. Shaking her own head slightly, Calleigh went to join her husband, thinking that as brilliant as his mind was, it was the things he didn't notice that made him most remarkable.  
  
***  
  
Albert Benjamin Edwards, a.k.a. Henry Eddington, sat in the witness room in sullen silence. Adele and Horatio left the room in exasperation. All Edwards had said at any point since his arrest was, "I have the right to remain silent."  
  
"He won't give up his associates," said Adele.  
  
"He's thinking of himself," Horatio corrected. "An old con like him knows that sometimes cases do get overturned, or lawyers get people off. Not him, though." It was a fiercely determined promise. "We tie him to the first murder on the fingerprint and acquaintance with the victim. We tie him to Sam's murder on the ring, and Lisa can identify that. Clear chain of evidence all around. The boys are still working on processing that house, so there may be more. I still think the house sitter is involved, too, for providing access to the barn if nothing else. Speed hasn't had time to finish reconstructing that notepad yet, but we know from the owner that the lock code was written on it. It was even labeled barn lock code. But even with the house sitter, there's at least one more person involved. That house sitter wasn't anyone's main accomplice."  
  
"We'll keep working on it," said Adele. "We've got this one, anyway. Whether he talks or not."  
  
"And we've probably saved Johnson's sister," said Horatio. He gave her a tired half-grin. "She should talk to Mrs. Cummings about weak chins."  
  
"I wish I had that whole interview on tape," said Adele.  
  
"What I'm looking forward to," said Horatio, "is Mrs. Cummings on the stand, being cross examined by the defense attorney. He doesn't stand a chance, poor guy."  
  
Adele chuckled. "That will be worth seeing." He really was looking tired, and she continued, "Why don't we quit for the evening? It's 8:00, and tomorrow is also a good day."  
  
"I want to get this case finished by Christmas," said Horatio doggedly.  
  
"We all do, H. But we aren't going to finish it tonight." Horatio's cell phone rang just then, and Adele slipped away with a quiet good night. She ran into Calleigh further down the hall. "We're quitting for the night, Calleigh, whether he wants to or not. Edwards is being booked, but he won't talk. You might have to drag H out of here, though. You know him. Soon as we get some progress, he wants more faster."  
  
"I'll drag him if I have to," said Calleigh. Adele looked up and down the hall, comparing sizes, and grinned.  
  
"Good night, Calleigh."  
  
"Good night, Adele."  
  
As Calleigh approached, she realized that Horatio was talking to Lisa. A quick stab of guilt swept through her again. If she had needed any solid evidence, which she hadn't, that nothing besides the case was going on, this conversation would have provided it. That and Horatio's smile at her over the edge of the phone. Having her there hearing his end did not bother him in the slightest.  
  
"Lisa, what can I do for you?"  
  
Her voice was uncertain, her hesitancy back. "I was just thinking, and there's something I didn't mention to you. I don't know if it matters or not."  
  
"What is it?" said Horatio gently.  
  
"When Ruth brought us the ring, we thought that a boarder had dropped it, or one of their friends. They do bring friends and family with them sometimes, to see the horses. So Sam took it, and she said she was going to ask everyone if it belonged to them."  
  
Horatio tilted his head slightly, thinking. "She was going to ask everyone she saw? Even strangers at the barn?"  
  
"Yes. So I was just wondering, why did they kill her? If she met some people in the aisle, she would have showed them the ring, first thing. So why didn't they just say yes we dropped it, and take it, and leave? Why kill her?"  
  
"That's an interesting question," said Horatio. "There's something not quite right about that crime scene. Also, we've found out that Sam was standing about 10 feet away from the killer, so she wasn't shot as they tried to grab it."  
  
"They wouldn't have had to grab it," Lisa insisted. "She would have just given it to them. Even a stranger. All they had to do was say they were friends of a boarder and claim the ring. She would have asked about the ring herself, I'm sure of it. And I know they were criminals, but don't they want the easiest way to do something?"  
  
"Usually," said Horatio. "Something else must have happened. We're still missing something here. I'll think about that, Lisa. I appreciate you letting me know. The cat hasn't brought you any more evidence, has she?"  
  
Lisa actually laughed. It wasn't much of a laugh, but Horatio gave her credit for the effort. "Three paperclips and a spoon today."  
  
"A spoon?" Drug use sometimes involved spoons.  
  
"One of our spoons. We've got a small fridge in the feed room, and we keep yogurt and stuff, in case we don't have time to really eat. Ruth stole that spoon a week ago. We missed it at the time."  
  
Oh well, two breaks in one day would be too much to hope for. "Well, let me know if she turns up anything else interesting. How are you doing?"  
  
"Okay, I guess."  
  
"Hang in there. And thank you for calling, Lisa. I do think this helps." He snapped the phone shut and turned to Calleigh.  
  
She had been studying him during the conversation. He really did look tired. She was reassured by the fact that he didn't seem to be getting sick, but what the experience had done was to sap all of his reserves. His stamina today had been shot, and Calleigh and Adele both had noticed it. It would probably take him a day or so to snap back, and she was grateful that he seemed to be getting off that lightly. "Let's go home, Horatio. You need to get to bed early tonight. I don't want you to get sick on me."  
  
"I'm not going to get sick," he insisted. "I haven't got time. And we're finally getting somewhere on this case. Besides, I slept for half the day today." He was annoyed himself at his own weakness.  
  
Calleigh gave him her best southern smile. "Now, Horatio, did I say you had to go to sleep?"  
  
He rewound the mental tape of their conversation. "No, actually, you didn't." He shifted a bit closer to her in the hall, putting his arm around her.  
  
"Come on, then. I think I need some more reassurance." Side by side, they left CSI.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh huddled on the bottom stair, her eyes glued to her father. He was sprawled flat beneath the Christmas tree, and a pitiful piece of ribbon stuck out from underneath him, testifying to the squashed popsicle stick house he had fallen on. Her shoulders started to quiver, but she automatically fought for control. She prided herself that she had never cried in front of her father. Not even when he was unconscious. She started to turn to retreat back up the stairs to her room, her lonely sanctuary, and stopped suddenly. Around the far side of the Christmas tree emerged Horatio. He carefully stepped over her father and came straight toward her, his hands reaching for hers. "Come here, beautiful," he said. Calleigh looked to the left and right, unable to believe at first that he was addressing her. When he got too close for her to doubt it, she slowly, uncertainly went forward. Was he sure he wanted to call her? His eyes never wavered, his arms giving her complete welcome. He stopped five feet away, and she went to him, slowly, then faster, then running the last step. His arms wrapped around her securely, and his warm, tall body blocked the view of her father. He hugged her, then stepped back again, and she realized that he had a present in his hand. He offered it to her, and she unwrapped it to reveal a new popsicle stick house. The second time she went to him, she didn't hesitate.  
  
Calleigh's eyes snapped open. Moonlight swept across the bed dimly, and she turned to Horatio. He was there, just like he had been in the dream. Solid and real. He was in that same unnaturally deep, healing sleep he had finally reached the night before, and he did not even stir when she shifted. She reached out to verify that he wasn't running a fever and was still breathing, then settled back to watch him.  
  
The dream had changed. As often has she had had it, it had always ended the same. Until now. This is my new popsicle house, she thought. My new beginning. Maybe I'm finally starting to believe it.  
  
Beautiful. He often called her beautiful, but she had never felt beautiful before she knew him. Ugly, old beyond her years, and world weary, trying desperately to hide the scars on her body and, worse, on her soul so that no one would see. But he called her beautiful, knowing all of the scars. Amazing. He even made her feel beautiful at times, now.  
  
She remembered his question from that afternoon. What would I do without you? Incredible, that he would need her. As unworthy as she felt sometimes of him, he needed her. And he truly did. She thought of what his life had been like without her. Years haunted by his mother's murder, by watching everyone he loved be slaughtered, by responsibility dropped on him far too young. And like her, he had hidden the scars and locked everything up. If anything, he had done it more than she had, and he had kept more seething inside for longer. Years with no one he would let close enough to let them help him shed a piece of the burden, like he had let her that afternoon. Years of thinking he was to blame for all the death that surrounded him, that he had jinxed his loved ones. She still marveled that he hadn't given himself ulcers or dropped dead of a heart attack years ago. Yes, he needed her, as much as she needed him.  
  
Beautiful. Now he was beautiful. Body and soul, the most remarkable person she had ever known. He carried plenty of his own scars, and even the scars were beautiful. She reached out and lightly traced the 4-inch scar down his right temple, right at the edge of his face. The scars prove that it's real, she suddenly realized. No fantasy, no dream would include the scars. Maybe, like she thought he was beautiful, he thought she was too. Scars and all. He had said he wanted Christmas to be different himself this year. He carried as much baggage from the past, if not more than she did. Did he have trouble believing it too, at times? Did he dream of going back to an empty house on Christmas, like all the Christmases past?  
  
She chuckled slightly to herself. Two scarred people, each needing the other, each completing the other, each trying to convince themselves the solitude was finally over. "Boy, we're a pair," she said aloud, fairly certain that he was far enough under that she wouldn't disturb him. "I guess we'll just have to grow young together, Horatio. I think we've both already been old." She leaned over and kissed him, then settled down against him again, her body spooning into his, yin and yang. She could feel him breathing, the even rhythm of life reassuring her. Gradually, she drifted back off to sleep. She did not dream of Christmases from childhood anymore but jumbled, incoherent dreams of wandering, through forests, through mazes, through canyons, looking for the way out, knowing absolutely that there was a way out somewhere. She kept waking up during the rest of the night to make sure that Horatio was still there. He always was. And she would touch him, reassuring herself, and fall asleep again. 


	8. Hopes and Fears 8

"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep. The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, With peace on earth, good will to men."  
  
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day"  
  
***  
  
Lisa snapped awake with a jerk, heart pounding. She had been dreaming that Sam was trying to tell her something. Her friend had been laid out in her coffin at the funeral home, and Lisa had bent closer to her to hear the message. Suddenly, arms had grabbed her from behind, and the funeral home staff, thinking she was another dead body, were placing her in her own coffin. Lisa desperately tried to explain that she was still alive, but she had lost all power of movement. They pushed her down into the coffin as the lid started to close.  
  
Actually, the pressure was still on her chest, even though she was awake now. She opened her eyes and looked straight down at Ruth, arranged like a miniature sphinx on her chest, purring lustily. Ruth did not often have an opportunity to enjoy a human pillow at night. "Don't do that," Lisa protested, while her hand went down to massage the cat's ears. "Do you have any idea what you made me dream?" Ruth squeezed her eyes shut in catly indifference, still purring.  
  
With a slight groan, Lisa settled back on the couch in the feed room. She hadn't really meant to sleep here all night, had just stretched out for a minute's rest before driving home. She glanced at Sam's watch, which she was still wearing. Yep, all night. It was now 5:30. She stretched out the sore points in her muscles gingerly while still lying there. Doing the basic chores at the barn had taken two hours, morning and night, with two people. That left eight hours for one person alone, and at the end of that, there were still 20 horses to be exercised. Two days of doing it alone had worn Lisa to the edge of exhaustion, even using the lunge line mostly to work the horses instead of riding. Of course, the boarders would help eventually, at least with exercising their own horses. So many were on vacation right now, and Lisa had cancelled all lessons until after Christmas.  
  
She had spent yesterday thinking things through while working, the sheer volume of the workload forcing her to be practical in spite of her grief. The business was hers alone now. Absolutely everything here was paid off. Her business now, to make a success or a failure. Sam would no longer be there like Santa Claus to bail them out over tough times. Still, she thought it could be done. She was advanced enough herself now that she was teaching lessons, and the boarding business was profitable. The barn had been in the black for two years running. She had to get some help, though. She had called a few people last night, friends and boarders who she knew weren't totally bogged down with work and responsibilities themselves, and offered them part-time jobs. One of them would come the day after Christmas and help her for two weeks, until college started again, but so many people were out of town at the moment, she hadn't been able to make any progress past that. At least in a few days, she would have some temporary assistance. This is the 22nd, she thought, adding it up mentally. Hang on until the end of the week, Lisa. And Sam, if you're up there, send me some permanent help. I'm not quitting, but I can't do this alone.  
  
She rolled over and swung her feet to the ground, dislodging the cat, who gave her a disapproving glare and stalked off. Might as well get started early on the day. She scrambled to her feet and opened the grain bin, starting to fill the feeding cart.  
  
The horses whinnied and scrambled eagerly in their stalls as the wheeled cart started to roll down the aisle. Lisa smiled to herself in spite of the sore muscles. Their unfailing welcome always soothed her. Of course, she knew it was the food they anticipated now, but they were always glad to see her, and they never cared if she looked like she had slept in the feed room all night. She wheeled the cart back to the feed room, fed Ruth, and returned to the main aisle. She leaned against the wall for a minute and closed her eyes, just listening to the even, contented munch. It smoothed the frayed edges off her soul. She often thought that tapes of horses eating should be sold as therapy. This had Valium beat a mile.  
  
She opened her eyes and wandered most of the way down the aisle. This was where Sam had died. Why? She wanted to shake the criminals and drag some reason out of them. Then see them punished, of course, but she did want a reason, too. She would have given you that ring. You didn't have to shoot her.  
  
She recreated the scene in her mind. Sam had come down the aisle from the other end, coming from the arena. There had been strangers in the aisle, looking for the ring. Never put off by anyone, she would have immediately introduced herself. Probably they met at about the halfway point, meeting her as she was coming toward them. She would have asked about the ring promptly. Then what? Why shoot her? Why not just claim it? Something else must have happened, Caine had said. The shooter was 10 feet from Sam. The exchange might even have already taken place.  
  
Lisa crossed to Chrissy's stall, looking to her horse for inspiration. The mare had her muzzle buried in the feed bucket, but she raised it for a minute, looking back at Lisa with calm, trusting inquiry. Are we going to do something? Chrissy would rather work than eat, even. "Finish your breakfast," said Lisa. Chrissy still watched her for a second longer, then turned back to the grain. Lisa admired her for a moment. The bay coat was shining, the muscles of her jaws sliding easily underneath it, the ears relaxed but still half focused on Lisa, ready to catch any change of agenda.  
  
Lisa abruptly stiffened and whirled around, staring directly across the aisle. Valentine, a much faster eater, was already finished with his breakfast. He had his head over his stall door, his own ears focused on her calmly. Valentine's stall, directly across from Chrissy's, directly across from the scene of the murder. And suddenly, Lisa knew exactly why Sam had died.  
  
***  
  
The kitchen phone rang, and Calleigh, hovering under the edge of consciousness, groaned and considered ignoring it. The ringer on the bedroom phone was still turned off from yesterday morning. It was too much effort to get up and move. The machine could get it.  
  
It wasn't, though. The ringing persisted. Horatio stirred slightly himself, and Calleigh reluctantly got up, hoping to grant him a little more sleep. She swung the bedroom door shut as she went out. She picked up the kitchen phone with a grumbled hello and found herself talking to the dial tone, while the ringing continued. Her sleep-soaked brain finally started to function. She hung up the phone and picked up Horatio's cell phone from the counter where he had left it last night. "Hello," she snapped.  
  
There was a pause of several seconds. "Hello," Calleigh repeated. Come on, if you're going to ring 15 times, at least stay on the line.  
  
"Mrs. Caine?" The voice was familiar, but she couldn't place it for a minute.  
  
"Yes." Claiming Horatio's name soothed a bit of the edge off her tone. She still enjoyed calling herself that.  
  
"This is Lisa Wilson."  
  
Calleigh stiffened up instantly, reflexively. Even if nothing was going on from Horatio's point of view, Lisa had thought about it. Calleigh was sure of that. Her faith in Horatio was rock solid again, but she didn't have to like this little tramp. "May I help you?" she said coldly.  
  
Another pause. "Um, is Mr. Caine there?"  
  
"He's still asleep. I'd be glad to give him a message." She'd like to give Lisa a message, but the southern courtesy drilled into her prevented her from direct attack.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think how early it was."  
  
Calleigh looked at her own watch. "It's 6:15. Did you have a message you want to give me?"  
  
Lisa hesitated so long Calleigh wondered if she had hung up. "Um, could you just tell him that I have some new information on the case?"  
  
"I'll give him the message." She would, too. Duty overrode feelings.  
  
"Thank you," Lisa said softly. "I'm sorry I disturbed you." She hung up, leaving Calleigh suddenly feeling guilty again. I have nothing to apologize to Lisa for, she told herself firmly. She would give Horatio the message, though.  
  
Calleigh started making coffee, putting off waking him up as long as she could. She would have liked to let him sleep in again, but he would never forgive her for it. Not two mornings in a row. She started planning the day ahead, but she still couldn't shake that nagging feeling of guilt about Lisa, like she had just struck a child. Determinedly, she shoved it from her mind. And did it again, and yet again, while she fixed breakfast. Finally, she decided to salve her conscience by being especially nice to Horatio, who did deserve an apology, even if he didn't know it. She fixed them each a plate and arranged them side by side on a tray. It didn't really leave room for the coffee cups; she would have to come back for those.  
  
She pushed the bedroom door open again and tiptoed in, then carefully, softly set the tray with the plates on the bed right beside his face, about six inches from his nose. She straightened up and admired him silently for a moment, resisting (with difficulty) the temptation to smooth a stray lock of red hair back into place. Nothing happened for several seconds, then Horatio's nose twitched slightly and he stirred. Calleigh tiptoed back into the kitchen, returning with the two coffee cups. His eyes were open now but slightly puzzled. She always loved catching him off guard. It didn't happen often.  
  
"Morning, handsome." She set his cup on the nightstand next to him and walked around the bed to her own side.  
  
"Morning. What is this?"  
  
"Breakfast in bed. I've never brought anyone breakfast in bed in my life before, so you should be honored." She slipped back into bed herself, the tray between them.  
  
"What's the occasion?"  
  
"I'm married to the man of my dreams." She leaned across the plates and kissed him, then picked up her own plate. "We haven't got too much time to spare, though, so you'd better get to eating."  
  
He sat up, accepting his plate. "You're in a good mood this morning." He picked up his watch from the nightstand, glancing at it as he put it on.  
  
"I meant that literally. You were in my dreams last night, and you saved my seventh Christmas from disaster." She recounted the dream while they ate. He smiled at her.  
  
"Glad I was there for you."  
  
"You always are. I'm really starting to think this year will be different. This is the 22nd, Horatio. Tomorrow night, we'll be having our own celebration. Christmas is almost here." His expression changed so quickly that it startled her. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing." He retreated instantly, and she kicked him, almost making him spill his coffee.  
  
"We're not going through that again. You've spent enough of your life not talking about things. What's wrong?"  
  
He hesitated, then half-smiled, but it was forced. "Long habit. I am trying to break it. Maybe you could design a 12-step program."  
  
She smiled back at him but didn't lose track of the point. "I'll work on that. Now, what's wrong?"  
  
"I'd just really like to get this case finished, to get justice for Sam before Christmas."  
  
"For Sam," she repeated. "Why does this one get under your skin so much? It's more than you blaming yourself about the lock code. Is it just that you knew her alive?"  
  
He hesitated, his eyes focusing on the far wall, not looking at her. "She reminded me so much of my mother," he said finally. "Not in looks, but the personality was the same. Such a remarkable person. I'm not going to let anyone get away with this. Every single person involved is going down for it." It was a fierce vow. "And we will get this case closed by Christmas. I can give her family and Lisa that much, at least. They can't celebrate, but at least they can have some closure."  
  
Calleigh reached out with her foot again, but instead of kicking him this time, she stroked his leg gently. "I'm sorry, Horatio. I didn't realize that." Too wrapped up in my own memories to see his, she scolded herself.  
  
He heard the unspoken thought and returned the pressure of his foot against hers. "You've had a lot on your mind. We will have our own private celebration tomorrow night, to give you a true Christmas to remember. Even if the case isn't done. We can stop for a while."  
  
"No, Horatio. We can celebrate any time. We have a whole lifetime together. Finish this one out first, since it means that much to you. You're right, her people deserve closure." She still couldn't quite mention Lisa by name. A second later, though, she realized that she had to. "Oh, Horatio, I forgot. Lisa called a little earlier. She said she had some new information on the case."  
  
He switched instantly from personal to professional tracks, his mind sorting out the case. "Did she say what?'  
  
"No." Not that I really gave her a chance to.  
  
"I'll go out to the barn this morning. I need to get her to identify the ring officially, anyway." He looked at his watch again. "We'd better get moving. Thank you for the breakfast, beautiful. I've never had anyone bring me breakfast in bed, so it's a first for both of us." He kissed her again. "And we will celebrate tomorrow night. We'll just make sure we finish this case before then." He threw back the covers and launched himself into the day, determination in every line of him. Calleigh gathered up the plates and followed him.  
  
***  
  
The team met in the layout room. Horatio was in his general giving the battle plan to the troops mood, and not even Speed challenged the serious tone of the meeting. "This is the 22nd, people. By tomorrow night, we will have this case totally closed. We have Edwards, but we need to finish nailing down the evidence for him. No lawyer is going to have a chance to get him off. And the rest of those involved are still out there. Eric, Speed, anything on the house yesterday?"  
  
Eric answered. "Nothing, H. No fingerprints, not even on the doorbell, not even on the flush handle of the toilet. Edwards was wearing gloves. And they did wipe the desk down, just in case."  
  
"I haven't had time to finish that notepad reconstruction yet," said Speed, "but we know from the owner the lock code was there."  
  
"Put that on hold for the moment," said Horatio. "You can come back to it later, for use at the trial. This morning, Speed, you're going to process the Explorer. Look for any evidence that it was used to transport that body. Get any prints you can. Also, match up Calleigh's tire track casts." Speed nodded, and Horatio divided his attention between Eric and Calleigh. "You two are going to process Edwards' house. Eric, get anything you can, especially on who else might be involved. Also remember the fibers from the stall. Try to find matching clothes. Calleigh, you're looking for weapons and pool cues. If you find any, bring them back and compare them to the weapons used in the two murders. And everyone keep me posted."  
  
There was a low murmur of agreement, but Calleigh wasn't sure how much of it reached Horatio, his focus was so tight. He was already out the door, heading for the barn, before the rest of them moved.  
  
***  
  
When Horatio entered the barn, Lisa was halfway down the aisle, cleaning stalls. She popped out instantly when she heard someone, and he saw the moment of tension on her face until she recognized him. How long would it take her to stop wondering if the next person into the barn was a murderer? He noted the new security cameras at each end of the aisle. She had some reassurance there, at least.  
  
"Morning, Lisa. I understand you tried to call me earlier."  
  
"Right, I've figured it out now. I know what happened. Come here." She headed down the aisle, walking as fast as she could. He frowned slightly, studying her. She seemed to have lost 10 pounds in just a few days, and the slight limp was more than slight now.  
  
"Are you okay, Lisa?"  
  
"Just tired. This is too much work for one person, but I'm trying to hire some help. I've got someone coming the day after Christmas." They reached Valentine's stall, and the gray horse stuck his head out over the door. Lisa gave him a pat. "This is where Sam was murdered, right here, and I think it was because Valentine's stall is here."  
  
Horatio didn't quite follow her. "You mean, you think she found them in his stall looking for the ring?"  
  
"No. I'm sure they weren't in his stall, because they wouldn't be able to get in it. I think Val recognized them and freaked out, and Sam put it together."  
  
The light dawned. "You mean the horse would recognize the criminals."  
  
"Absolutely. They learn by association. He didn't know what was coming the first night, but they caught him, probably handled him roughly, dumped a dead body in front of him, and smeared blood on his legs. He'll never forget it. He would be upset the minute he smelled them. I think probably they had just come into the barn, through the main door at the middle, when Sam came around. So they talked, and she gave them the ring. But Val was getting restless, which isn't at all like him. So she walked down the aisle to check on him, and the criminals must have followed her. The closer they got, the more upset Val was, and Sam realized why. So she turned back to accuse them, standing right in front of his stall, and they shot her. That's why there was the distance."  
  
All the puzzle pieces fit. "That's it, Lisa. I'm sure you're right." Horatio held out a picture of the ring. "By the way, just to go through the formalities, this is the ring Ruth brought you, right?"  
  
"That's it."  
  
"Will you testify to that at the trial?"  
  
She hesitated, then straightened up. "Yes. For Sam." His admiration for her grew a notch. He knew, and understood, why she hated dealing with people.  
  
"Thank you. I'm sure Edwards is the one who killed Sam, and we have him in custody, but the rest of the gang is still out there." He looked back at Valentine. "Edwards is the one who held the horse. His fingerprint is on the halter. But there had to be others here."  
  
Lisa grinned suddenly. "Val will identify Edwards. Maybe we could have a line up. Is that admissible in court?"  
  
Horatio grinned back at her. "I doubt it. We'd never arrange a line up with the horse, anyway. Edwards has already lawyered up. He won't get off, though; the evidence is strong." His grin faded as he thought it through. "We might be able to use that another way, though. You're sure that the horse could identify anyone here that night?"  
  
"Positive. But you just said it wasn't admissible."  
  
"It's not. But I think it might be useful." He whipped out his cell phone. "Adele? Meet me over at the house-sitter's. I'd like to run him by an eyewitness, see if we can get an identification."  
  
Adele's voice was puzzled. "There weren't any eyewitnesses, H."  
  
"Wrong." Horatio reached up his free hand and stroked Valentine on the neck. "We've got one. And he's willing to testify."  
  
***  
  
Horatio beat Adele to the house and leaned against the H2 waiting. Curtains twitched on both sides of the street. He would just wait here and let the house sitter get himself nice and worked up before they went in. He turned to the other side of the street and waved to Mrs. Cummings. That curtain instantly grew still, and Horatio grinned to himself. He absolutely had to be in court the day she was on the stand. He passed the time waiting by mentally inserting different defense attorneys he knew into that cross-examination. Shame that it had to only be one of them.  
  
Adele pulled up. "What's this about an eyewitness?"  
  
"Valentine. I want to see if he'll identify our house sitter."  
  
Adele eyed him steadily. "Even if he will, what difference does it make? He can't testify."  
  
"The problem here," Horatio explained, "is that the house sitter is more frightened by the other criminals than he is by us. I want to see if we can change that. The horse weighs 900 pounds, Lisa said."  
  
"He's also a 10-year-old's pet."  
  
"I don't think he'll be feeling too gentle this time. Come on, Adele. Nothing ventured, nothing gained."  
  
Horatio let Adele take the lead for once. She was better at being painfully officially proper than he was. "You understand that you are not obligated to take a ride with us, or to answer any questions, and that you may have a lawyer with you if you wish."  
  
"And that the owner of this house has given you express instructions to cooperate with us in any way needed," added Horatio. Adele frowned at him.  
  
The house sitter bit his lip nervously. "Yeah, okay, I guess. I keep telling you guys, I don't know anything."  
  
"Can't hurt to come with us and answer a few questions, then," Adele pointed out.  
  
"Okay." He came with them, uneasy but still convincing himself that they really had no evidence to make him accessory. Unfortunately, thought Horatio, he's right. At this point.  
  
The Hummer and Adele's car convoyed out to the barn. Horatio could imagine the house sitter getting more and more nervous during the trip as he realized where they were going. He couldn't protest to Adele, though, since he still claimed he didn't even know where the barn was.  
  
By the time the two vehicles pulled up, the man was a nervous wreck. He got out and lit a quick cigarette, and his hands were shaking. "No smoking," said Horatio. "It's dangerous in barns. Too much hay." The cigarette reluctantly dropped to the ground. "Now then, since you've never met your relative's horses, we just thought we would introduce you." He entered the barn, and Lisa silently came to meet them. Horatio again noted the cameras. Just let some defense attorney claim we roughed him up here. We aren't going to have to.  
  
Horatio was watching Valentine intently as the house sitter entered the barn. The gray horse's head came out of his stall instantly, and he was looking up toward them, the nostrils flaring, the ears flipping uneasily back and forth. "Now down here," said Horatio, "is Valentine. He's the little girl's pet. Perfectly gentle, guaranteed safe." They started down the aisle. The closer they got, the more agitated Val became. He retreated, galloped a circle inside his stall, then came back to the door, snorting. As they stopped in front of the stall, he reared and struck the door with a blow that echoed up and down the aisle, and Horatio suddenly understood why the stall doors were solid oak instead of cheaper wood.  
  
The house sitter backed up two or three steps, and Val snorted again, never taking his ears off him. He pawed the ground nervously. "How odd," said Horatio. "He doesn't seem to like you. Funny, since he's such a gentle horse. Maybe he just needs time to get to know you. Lisa, would you take the horse out, please?"  
  
Lisa picked up the halter and reached for the stall latch. Valentine kicked the door again, and the house sitter folded like a house of cards. "Keep him away from me! That horse is crazy. He stepped on me the other night, and he wasn't half this bad then. He'll kill me!" He clutched at Horatio's arm, pleading unashamedly. "Please, you gotta keep him away."  
  
Adele instantly whipped out her notebook. "With your right to remain silent still in mind, are you admitting that you have been here before?"  
  
"Yes, yes, I was here. I'll talk to you. I'll do anything. Just don't let that horse out."  
  
Adele stepped forward, taking his arm firmly. "I think we'll continue this conversation at headquarters."  
  
"Fine," babbled the house sitter. "Just get me out of here!" Adele escorted him up the aisle and out. Horatio hesitated for a second.  
  
"Lisa," he said, "when the horse calms down, give him a carrot for me. I wish every witness we had was that positive." She half smiled at him, and he gave her a pat on the shoulder. "We'll get them all, I promise you. Take care of Valentine. We may need him again." He followed Adele down the aisle.  
  
***  
  
Once cracked, the house sitter broke wide open, spilling everything, more scared of Valentine now than of the criminals. He had run into Edwards at a convenience store, and they recognized each other from prison. In the conversation, he mentioned that he was house sitting for his relative. Later that night, Edwards had rung the doorbell. He stayed for over an hour, grumbling that his new girlfriend had found his best private rendezvous, and the cops were staking out two more. He had to get a new secure place before a big drug deal went down in a few days. At first, he wanted to use Valentine's owner's house, but he had spotted Mrs. Cummings on the way in. He drilled the house sitter with all sorts of questions about the old woman, but he finally gave up on the idea. While he was there, though, he found the barn lock code and then went looking for the address. So the drug deal had gone down at the barn, with the house sitter insisting he had been dragged along reluctantly. Edwards said he knew too much to not be at the exchange. Everything had gone smoothly. Two other people had been with Edwards, as well as the drug buyers and their accomplices. The four of them were splitting the money at Edwards' apartment the next night, while his girlfriend was at a movie, and one of them had become convinced that Edwards short-changed him. In the argument, Edwards had hit him with a pool cue and beaten him to death. It was Edwards' idea to take the body back to the barn and frame the horse for murder. He said he had once seen a man with his head kicked in by a horse, and it looked similar. Edwards had held the horse, and the house sitter had smeared blood onto his legs. The third man had arranged the body.  
  
"What about the third trip to the barn, when Sam was killed?" asked Horatio. He was sitting down at the table and appeared calm, but the eyes were lasers.  
  
"What third trip? I wasn't with them any third trip."  
  
"Come clean with us. That's your only chance to cut your sentence."  
  
"I'm telling you, I wasn't there. Check with Nosy across the street. She probably keeps a log of cars in and out. I never went back to the barn until today."  
  
Horatio sighed, reluctantly believing him. With one of the four killed with a pool cue, that still left one on the loose. "The other person you saw with Edwards, not the one who was killed, did you know him?"  
  
"Never saw him before. And he never used his name."  
  
Horatio leaned forward slightly. "Is there anything else you can tell us that would help identify him? Anything at all?"  
  
The house sitter really was trying. "Wait a minute, he called Edwards on his cell. While Edwards was over at the house. In fact, he was giving him a new number to reach him at."  
  
Horatio sat straight up. "Did Edwards write it down?"  
  
"Yeah, on the notepad. He had it right then, looking at the barn lock code. Then he pulled off the top several pages and put them in his pocket."  
  
Horatio stood up. "Thank you." As he left the room, he could hear Adele behind him, going through the formalities of arrest. He nearly ran over Calleigh in the hall.  
  
"Hey, what's up?"  
  
"New information. Where's Speed?"  
  
"Still working on the Explorer. I've identified the pool cue and the gun."  
  
"Great." He wasn't insincere, just totally focused on something else. Calleigh knew the look. She followed him toward the garage.  
  
"Was that the house sitter you were questioning?"  
  
"Right. We scared him into cooperating with us. Just one missing now, and we've got a good lead on him." They entered the garage. "Speed."  
  
"Yo, H. This car definitely transported a body. I sent DNA and hair samples up to the lab to match. Not many fingerprints, though. They wore gloves."  
  
"I want you to drop the car and get back to work on that notepad. Reconstruct it as far as you can, especially any phone numbers. There's at least one written on it, several pages back."  
  
Speed looked dubious. "How many pages back? There's a limit."  
  
"Well, work on it until you hit the limit. Then go farther until you get me that number."  
  
"Right," said Speed. No point in trying to reason with H when he was in this mood. He left the garage.  
  
Behind him, Calleigh looked over at Horatio. "Sounds like a good lead."  
  
"I just hope it doesn't take Speed too long." Page reconstruction was a tedious process, he knew. But there was nothing he could do to hurry it along. Reluctantly, Horatio steeled himself to wait it out, and Calleigh steeled herself to wait it out with him. 


	9. Hopes and Fears 9

Here's part 9. See part 1 for required disclaimers, fine print, etc., etc. I'll try to finish it up Monday.  
  
***  
  
"Darkness flies, all is light."  
  
Joseph Morr, "Silent Night"  
  
***  
  
None of the first shift team went home that night, although Horatio did buy them all pizza. Speed worked at his fastest amble, never seeming like he was hurrying but actually taking the reconstruction as quickly as he could do it carefully. The rest of them restlessly found other things to do. Eric worked on processing the evidence from Edwards' place, matching the fibers against Edwards' jackets, hoping something else would turn up in the labs that hadn't looked significant at the scene. Calleigh double-checked her work with the pool cue and the gun.  
  
Horatio himself processed the DNA from the hair found in the stall, comparing it to the sample they now had from Edwards, hoping that it would not match. It did, though. Another nail in Edwards' coffin, but Horatio had hoped for a link to the third man, something more convincing in court. Having an ex-con write down your phone number might be circumstantial evidence, but a defense lawyer could make mincemeat out of that one. There was the house sitter's identification, but Horatio desperately wanted, needed, a stronger link. He had uneasy feelings about how the house sitter would hold up as a witness on the stand. As Mrs. Cummings had observed, he had a weak chin.  
  
About 2:30, Horatio finally convinced Calleigh to lie down for a while in his office. She only agreed on the condition that he try to get some sleep, too. Eric had already flaked out in the break room. Speed was still plodding diligently along, listening to music to try to keep his mind alert. Horatio and Calleigh dragged themselves up the stairs to his office. She lay down on the couch, and he turned the two chairs in front of the desk to face each other, sitting in one and propping his feet in the other. He had turned off the main light, leaving the desk lamp on, putting her mostly in shadows.  
  
"So the hair belongs to Edwards," she said, her mind still working the case even as she started to fall asleep.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"His DNA wasn't in the system."  
  
"It is now." He could tell from the glint of her eyes that they were slowly closing. "Ever wonder how many crimes would be solved if everyone in prison now was added to the DNA registry?"  
  
"God only knows." Her voice was lazy. "We've got him, though. Can't get around DNA."  
  
"We'll get the others," Horatio whispered fiercely. She didn't respond. He settled back into the chair, watching her, and slowly his own eyes drifted shut.  
  
Just after 6:00 AM, Speed entered the office. He glanced from one to the other of them. Calleigh was curled up on the couch, looking much younger while asleep. Horatio wasn't curled up, though. If anyone could look elegant and in control while sleeping across two chairs, he did. Speed softly crossed the office and touched him lightly on the shoulder. "H."  
  
Horatio's eyes snapped open instantly. "Have you got it?"  
  
"Yeah. 6 pages back, and I had to untangle it from all the other stuff. There was something written in that spot on every single page. I got it, though."  
  
"Nice work." Horatio got softly to his feet, glanced at Calleigh himself, and led the way down to Trace, leaving her on the couch. Speed walked him through the pages, pointing out the barn lock code and the phone number, and Horatio gave him a light slap on the shoulder. "Go get a few hours of sleep. You've earned it." He studied the phone number himself for a minute, then went into the break room. Eric was still sprawled on the couch there. Horatio started coffee before going over to him and shaking him gently. "Eric."  
  
Eric half rolled over, burying his face in the back of the couch. "Not now, Baby. Give it a little rest."  
  
"Sorry, I'm relentless," Horatio replied. Eric rolled back far enough to see out of one eye, then came straight up out of the couch.  
  
"H. I was just dreaming . . . um . . . " His voice trailed off, and Horatio smiled at him.  
  
"Get yourself a cup of coffee and meet me in the layout room. Five minutes."  
  
"Right," said Eric sheepishly. As Horatio left, Eric took comfort in one thing. At least Speed hadn't heard that exchange. Horatio would just be quietly and privately amused; Speed would have never let him live it down.  
  
***  
  
An hour and a half later, Horatio called Adele. "It's me. We've got the phone number from the notepad, and it's been traced. It matches a cell phone owned by one Craig Thomas."  
  
"Any priors?"  
  
"Nope. Not even a traffic ticket. Clean as a whistle. Let's go check him out. I've got the address."  
  
"No history at all?"  
  
"The only thing that means," said Horatio, "is that he hasn't been caught yet. We're about to correct that." He heard Adele's sigh, but she didn't make any further comment. "Are you coming?"  
  
"Someone's got to keep an eye on you. Meet me in fifteen minutes in the garage."  
  
***  
  
Lisa was grooming Chrissy, humming to herself and the horse to try to convince both of them that she was in a good mood. Only a few mornings ago, Sam had been here helping her. Lisa could replace the help, but she could never replace the friend. The humming trailed off gradually.  
  
She was trying a different agenda this morning. Instead of doing everything else and being too run down to do anything by the time she got to working the horses, she was going to alternate. One hour of chores, work two horses, back and forth. At least she would get a little of everything done that way. Chrissy was first, of course. Lisa hadn't had time to ride, to really ride, in three days. This wasn't a day to work on a freestyle, when she needed to be on top of everything before she started. The drill work was necessary for the dance. No, she decided, she would take the mare outside today and ride her around the property, brushing up the basic movements that formed the building blocks for the musical rides, knocking the rust off herself. Outside, she could make use of the terrain. A hill could be used to put a horse into balance, to remind the rider of the correct feeling.  
  
Just a few days ago, Sam had been there, an invaluable set of eyes from a distance, telling her when it looked right and when she was missing the mark. She had done so much for Lisa. So incredibly much. She had always said Lisa could pay her back by letting her groom for her at the Olympics someday. Now she never would. Lisa felt her eyes welling up with tears again. Such a beautiful, irreplaceable friend. Lisa knew she never could have paid her back fully, even if Sam had lived.  
  
Lisa's head snapped up suddenly, a thought taking hold. Actually, there might be one way she could pay Sam back, even now. She stroked the horse's neck, trying to calm herself down, but her mind took off at a full gallop. It was absolutely crazy. It was absolutely perfect. She touched Chrissy lightly on the nose. "Wait here a second, Chrissy. I need to make one phone call real quick."  
  
Once in the office, she flipped through the stable address book, considering. The problem here with trying to hire help was that she had only tried to contact the people who she knew had time to do it. Now that she rephrased the question, there was only one possible choice. She went through the book a second time, but she had actually made her selection back in the cross ties with Chrissy. Now she just had to catch her before she went off to work. She picked up the phone.  
  
"Emily, it's Lisa."  
  
"Hi, Lisa." Her voice was slightly puzzled. They had just seen each other the day before, at Sam's funeral. "Is everything okay at the barn?"  
  
"Not really. This is just too much work for one person. I've been calling around, trying to hire someone part-time, and I thought of you."  
  
Emily actually took a minute to consider, in spite of her one full-time and one part-time job. "Gee, I'm pretty busy, but I might be able to help you for a few hours on the weekends. Maybe. Would that be any use to you?"  
  
"Anything would help at this point, but actually I had something else in mind." Lisa hesitated on the brink, savoring the moment, remembering it from the other end. "I have a proposal for you. If you'll quit your jobs and come help me with the horses full-time, I'll give you half of the stable, facility and profits. In memory of Sam."  
  
There was a full 15 seconds of stunned silence as the offer sank in. Then Emily burst into tears.  
  
***  
  
"The cell phone was stolen last week," Craig Thomas persisted. "I left my car unlocked."  
  
"In Miami?" said Adele dubiously.  
  
"Everybody's done it at least once." He settled back into his chair, his eyes meeting theirs evenly. "I've never heard of Albert Edwards, or the other two you mentioned either. And I don't use drugs; you can test me right now."  
  
"Could I see your current cell phone, please?" asked Adele. He took it out of a pocket and handed it over. It certainly looked new, and the number was totally different.  
  
"Brand new. I just replaced the old one last week."  
  
Horatio sized him up. He was too calm. This wasn't the calm of innocence. This was studied, professionally acted calm. Regardless of the lack of a past record, this man was a criminal. If he hadn't done this, he had done something else. Horatio was absolutely certain of it. And they didn't have one scrap of proof at the moment that would even convince a warrant judge, much less a jury. Unless they could prove that Thomas still had the phone, there was no link. "Mr. Thomas, would you be willing to take a short drive with us, answer a few questions somewhere else? Understand, you are not under arrest. You have no obligation to comply. You may bring a lawyer if you wish."  
  
"Sure. I've got nothing to hide." Thomas stood up with easy confidence. This man was in a different league than the house sitter. Not as savage as Edwards, but just as professional. Horatio wanted to cuff him right there and drag him down to the station. Adele, perhaps sensing this, walked between them on the way outside.  
  
Thomas rode along in the Hummer, making easy conversation. "I always wanted one of these. Cops must make more than I thought."  
  
"It comes with the job," said Horatio. Of course Thomas weighed life in terms of money. Most professional drug dealers did.  
  
"Then I envy you the job." Horatio wondered what he would actually do with it. Most people would quit in a week, either from the hours or the gruesome details. Thomas could probably handle those, but he could never be a cop, and Horatio knew it. To him, that was the enemy camp. The man showed no tension at all in face, hands, or voice as they drove out to the barn. Horatio wondered if anything could shatter that calm. Well, they were about to find out. He had only one card to play here, so he was gambling everything on this hand.  
  
Lisa was outside riding Chrissy, flying at extended trot along the grass beside the drive. As the two vehicles parked and the passengers got out, she brought the mare to a stop. "Do you need me?" she called to Horatio. Chrissy chose that moment to jump sideways in mock fright at a leaf blowing, and Lisa's attention instantly returned to her horse.  
  
"No, finish your ride," Horatio responded. He knew she hadn't had much chance to ride lately. And really, it didn't make any difference. With or without Lisa, no one was going to actually let Valentine out of the stall. They weren't suicidal.  
  
'Nice set up," said Thomas, calculating the dollars. "Must be more money in horses than I thought."  
  
"Come on inside," said Adele, urging him toward the door. Thomas still had his casual confidence. Horatio followed them.  
  
Thomas stopped inside the main entrance, looking up and down the aisle. "Wow," he said respectfully. "Maybe I ought to get into horses. Actually, I've made some on them. At the racetrack, you know." Horatio looked down the aisle toward Valentine. The gray horse's head was out, his eyes rolling wildly, the ears alert. Adele looked down that way, too, and her own eyes met Horatio's. Got him, he said silently. Still got to prove it, she replied.  
  
Thomas was still standing in the middle of the aisle. He wasn't looking at the gray horse, not seeing him as a threat. "Come down this way," said Horatio. "There's something we'd like to show you."  
  
Valentine let out a shrill whinny that sounded like a scream, then charged around the stall. Thomas was looking at him now. Horatio reached the stall door and turned back. For the first time, he saw uncertainty, then recognition in the eyes. The horse kicked the stall door, shaking it on the hinges.  
  
"What's with that horse?" Thomas tried to make it sound casual and failed. His polished front was starting to crack.  
  
"I don't know," Horatio lied. "He's perfectly gentle, usually. Maybe he thinks you're someone else. I'll let him out, so he can get a good look at you." Val kicked again. Thomas was starting to sweat. Horatio picked up the halter, doing it in slow motion, and reached for the stall latch. Either Thomas cracked now or he didn't. Horatio wasn't about to open that door.  
  
Thomas cracked, all right, but he was made of much stronger stuff than the house sitter. Instead of collapsing in fear, he leaped into action. Horatio was turned toward the stall door, Adele between the two of them, and Thomas shoved her violently into him, knocking them both to the ground. By the time they had disentangled themselves and scrambled up, Thomas had sprinted up the aisle and was turning toward the exit. Horatio pulled his gun out quickly, but the opportunity for a shot wasn't there. He and Adele raced after Thomas. At least, Horatio had the keys to the Hummer, and he had automatically locked his vehicle, as had Adele. Thomas was on foot.  
  
Thomas pounded out of the door and hesitated slightly, realizing that he didn't have car keys. About 50 feet away, on the edge of the grass, Lisa was just dismounting from Chrissy, totally focused on the horse. She hadn't heard him, and Chrissy was focused on the treat Lisa was getting out for her. Thomas' eyes lit up. He had ridden horses a few times, at rental stables, and he had seen this one move earlier as they drove up. Now there was an escape vehicle for him. She could go off road, too. They would leave the cars in the dust. Thomas raced straight toward the horse. She spooked at the last second as she saw him, but he had already grabbed the reins. He shoved Lisa down roughly, thrust his foot into the stirrup, jumped on, and, like he had seen a thousand times in the movies, kicked the mare in the ribs. "Yah!" he shouted.  
  
Chrissy moved. With a snort of rage, she went straight up. Her heels were 10 feet off the ground at the height of her buck. Thomas made it several feet higher. As he fell, the mare whirled around and lashed out with both hind feet, catching him square in the chest and hurling him sideways. He hit the ground in a curiously bent heap and lay still. Chrissy trotted up to him, sniffing him. Thomas still lay motionless. With supreme disdain, Chrissy turned her back on him, trotted off about 100 feet, and started grazing.  
  
Horatio and Adele had come running out of the barn just in time to see Thomas grab the horse. As the dust settled, Adele ran toward Thomas, and Horatio hurried over to Lisa, who was just starting to pick herself up off the ground. He gave her a hand up. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I think so. Is that another one of the killers?"  
  
"That's right. The last one. We've got them all, now." Together, they walked toward Thomas, and Horatio heard Lisa's sharp intake of breath. "Lisa? What is it?"  
  
Her body trembled slightly as she got her first good look at Thomas. "That's him. That's the man who assaulted me." Adele looked up quickly. "Is . . . did she kill him?"  
  
"No," said Adele. "He'll need an ambulance, though. He's starting to come around."  
  
Lisa stared down at his face for a moment, then whirled away. "Lisa!" Horatio reached for her arm, but she brushed his hand off.  
  
"I've got to catch the horse. She could get out on the road." She started for Chrissy at a slow, calm walk, never once looking toward the open gate at the end of the drive. The mare's head came up, studying her. Horatio watched them. "How badly is he hurt?" he asked Adele.  
  
"Strong vitals. He'll make it. Broken leg, broken arm, possibly broken ribs. The horse kicked him in the chest. He might have a mild concussion, too." The eyes were fluttering open now. Adele met them, letting hers show every ounce of disgust she felt. "Not feeling so much like running now, are you?"  
  
Lisa slowly, almost casually approached Chrissy. She stopped five feet away, talking softly as she took a treat out of the pouch attached to her belt. She held it out on the flat of her hand and waited. She knew her voice would do as much as the tidbit, though, and she never stopped talking, knowing from the ears that Chrissy was listening to her. After a minute, the mare came forward willingly. Lisa gave her the treat and stroked her neck for a minute. Then, she tossed the reins back over her head and reached for the stirrup. She couldn't let the horse get away with throwing a rider, no matter how much he deserved it. She mounted, and Chrissy pranced for a second, then stood, reassured by the familiarity. "Just me," said Lisa, stroking her neck. "He'll never touch you again, Chris." She gathered the horse up, putting her into balance, refining the control, then rode toward the small knot of people at the edge of the drive.  
  
Thomas was awake now, and Adele was calling 911 on her cell phone. Horatio looked up, startled, as Lisa rode up to them, then realized instantly, with a slight smile, what she was doing. Lisa rode Chrissy up on the other side of Thomas and stopped her with the front hooves not more than a foot away from his head. She carefully held the horse's attention as she looked down at the man. Horatio realized that Lisa had absolute control of every hoof, down to fractions of an inch. Thomas did not. He cringed and gave a yelp of fear. "Keep her away from me!"  
  
"Quiet," said Horatio. "You wouldn't want to spook the horse, now, would you?" Thomas eyed the steel shoe mere inches from his face and fell silent, but the sweat on his forehead wasn't just from pain now. Chrissy stood like a statue, neck arched, her ears focused on Lisa, her eyes focused on the distance. Not once did she look down at the man. He was beneath her notice. Lisa did look down at him, seeing him broken, seeing him in pain, seeing him terrified, and relishing it. She saw the eyes pleading as he looked up at her. On horseback, she was easily the tallest one there. "Are you certain on the identification? This is the man who assaulted you?" asked Horatio. Not really a question; he just wanted to help her complete her victory while Thomas could hear it.  
  
"Positive." She looked at him for a second longer, then looked away, like her horse, no longer even seeing him. "I need to ride the horse a few minutes more. You never just put them up after throwing the rider. Even this snake." She turned Chrissy away, keeping the front feet on the spot as a pivot and rotating the hind ones around them 180 degrees to reverse her direction. As those steel-shod hooves started rising and falling inches from his face, Thomas absolutely whimpered. Chrissy completed her turn, and Lisa rode her away, not looking back.  
  
Adele finished her phone call. "They're on their way. And after the hospital, you're going to jail. Craig Thomas, you're under arrest for two counts of murder and for the assault and rape of Lisa Wilson."  
  
"Also for the assault of two police officers," added Horatio. "And that we have on video tape." Thomas groaned again, partly in pain but more in defeat. Horatio looked for Lisa and Chrissy. They were already at the fence line next to the pasture. Lisa had lifted the mare into a beautiful slow motion march, the hooves hovering like they were reluctant to touch the ground. The balance was perfect, the control and discipline absolute, but there was elation visible in both horse and rider, and Horatio could see the smile on Lisa's face even from where he stood. 


	10. Hopes and Fears 10

Here's the conclusion. See part 1 for disclaimers, etc. It's a joke in my family that I have to combine horses with anything else in life, so thanks for indulging me in this one. Now that I've gotten my horse/CSIM story out of my system, I'll put the horses back in the stable, while the Fearful Symmetry series will continue. Next up: Anniversary, a one part piece of angst/fluff that has no plot at all. I worked on it when I wanted a break from working out plot details on Hopes and Fears. Anniversary is already done, and I'll write it down as soon as I get a chance. The one after that will be back to wild plot twists, but it's just a blip on the horizon, so don't expect it too soon. Thanks for all your comments on this one. I hope you've enjoyed it half as much as I have. This one was pure fun for me. Chrissy and Ruth also appreciate all compliments, which have been passed along. Not that either of them have any problems with self-esteem.  
  
Additional disclaimer for part 10: The one quote toward the end is taken from Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. Absolutely no infringement of the copyright for this book is meant. In fact, I urge everyone to go buy a copy if you don't have one already and thereby add to the author's royalties. It is one of the most beautifully written love stories I have ever read in my life. I challenge anyone to read the first paragraph, then just put it down.  
  
***  
  
"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . ."  
  
From the Twelve Days of Christmas, traditional carol  
  
***  
  
Horatio had called Calleigh on the way to the hospital, briefly reporting that they had Thomas and that he would be back at CSI as soon as he was convinced everything was secure. Thomas' injuries proved to be more painful than severe. Within a few hours, he was in a room, with casts on his leg and arm and strapping that covered the blossoming horse shoe bruises on his chest. A policeman was stationed at the door, although Thomas wasn't likely to be going anywhere soon. Horatio had spent the time waiting making phone calls, and when he stepped in to see Thomas before leaving, he reached over and yanked, not too gently, some hair out of his scalp.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Thomas was fairly drugged up on pain medicine, but he had still felt it.  
  
"Collecting a DNA sample, lawfully, from a suspect in custody. And I do have a warrant for it." Horatio dropped the hair into an evidence enveloped and sealed it. He wanted to get Thomas dead to rights for something before he was mobile enough to leave the hospital. The house sitter's value as a witness on the murder still bothered Horatio, but Lisa's ID was rock solid, and they had old evidence in her file to compare this sample to. Between that and attacking two officers, Thomas wouldn't go anywhere from the hospital except to jail. Horatio looked at all of the casts and bandages and gave Thomas a chilly smile as he turned away. "Enjoy your last few days of freedom, Thomas. And Merry Christmas."  
  
He felt his muscles gradually starting to relax as he drove back to CSI. Edwards, who had actually pulled the trigger, would never get around the overwhelming evidence against him. The house sitter was at least up for accessory charges, between his own confession and the evidence that the barn lock code had been provided through him. And they now had DNA evidence to strengthen the case against Thomas, even if it was for a different crime. Horatio felt like he had, at least, helped see justice done. He still regretted Sam's death, but at least it was a clean pain, no longer festering. There would be a scar, but the wound was free to heal now. He let his thoughts turn to Calleigh. Tonight he would truly celebrate Christmas with the greatest gift of his life. The best gift for both of them this Christmas would be each other. He considered his material gift to her again, the one he had bought right before the accident at the canal. He thought it was perfect for her, for them, but he still anxiously awaited her approval. He would be sure she celebrated tonight, too. Poor Calleigh, he thought, but his mind immediately modified it. Not poor Calleigh any longer. Tonight we both get to start over and do Christmas right.  
  
CSI was a whirlwind of festivity. Horatio exited the elevator and stopped dead. "What on earth?" Tinsel was draped across the front of the reception desk, and a jingle bell string had been tied to the phone. Claudia looked up and smiled at him, a bit uncertainly.  
  
"Alexx decided to finish decorating, since the case is over. She said you'd approved it."  
  
So he had, a week and more ago. He'd forgotten. "Right, no problem. Do I even want to know what they did in the labs?" She didn't answer, just waved a hand toward the glass doors. Fine, he'd check out the evidence himself.  
  
The lab had more tinsel strung around, along with Christmas tree lights. He heard Alexx and Calleigh giggling like school girls even before he saw them. They were in the area below the stairs to his office. "I leave you two alone for one morning, and look what happens," he said with mock sternness, and they both spun around, trying, and failing, to look serious.  
  
"I brought some homemade cookies from home at lunch," said Alexx. "They're in the break room. I'll go see if Delko's left you any."  
  
"Don't forget to save some for Speed," said Horatio. "I gave him the day off today, after he was up all night reconstructing that notebook."  
  
"He'll probably turn up eventually, though." Calleigh knew Speed didn't have much in life besides work and sleep. "Not like he has anything else to do. We've got to find him a girlfriend."  
  
"What about Eric?" asked Alexx. "Don't you think he deserves a girlfriend?"  
  
Horatio grinned, remembering Eric's half asleep comments that morning. "Eric will find the right one himself. Eventually." They all laughed. Eric's dogged optimism - in spite of all setbacks - was one of his trademarks.  
  
Alexx departed on her cookie quest, and Calleigh latched onto Horatio's arm, pulling him along with her. "Come over here, handsome. There's something I want to show you."  
  
He went along willingly. "What is it?"  
  
They reached the alcove under the stairs, and she spun back around and captured him with her arms. "Gotcha. Look up." He did and spotted the mistletoe hung from the bottom of one of the steps. Calleigh pulled his head back down within her reach, and they shared a long, satisfying kiss. "How many girls have you ever kissed under the mistletoe before?"  
  
"None. What's your score?"  
  
"First time for me, too. I can see why it's a popular tradition, though." They kissed again, and as Calleigh tightened her grip on him, something crinkled. "What on earth have you got in your jacket pocket?"  
  
Horatio straightened up, suddenly remember the few loose ends left on this case. "Evidence, actually. Let's not put this episode in the evidence log, okay?" He pulled out the envelope with Thomas' hair in it. "There's just one thing I have to do before we celebrate. I need to run Thomas' DNA through the system and get a match so he's incriminated as tightly as Edwards is." He wound through the glass lined halls to Speed's usual domain, uninhabited right now, and opened the envelope.  
  
Calleigh followed him, puzzled. "Match it with what? You were just saying last night that the DNA from the stall matched Edwards. In fact, you were annoyed about it, because we didn't have anything to incriminate the third man besides the house sitter's story."  
  
"We do now." Horatio snapped on Latex gloves and removed the hair from the envelope. "Lisa has identified Thomas as the man who assaulted and raped her a few years ago. There will be samples from that case on file."  
  
Calleigh jolted to a halt on her way around the table to join him. "Lisa was raped a few years ago?"  
  
"Yes. Poor woman. She was beaten pretty badly, in fact. That's why she's so uncertain around people. She really has had a rough life, even before that. Her parents were both killed in an accident when she was a kid, and she grew up in foster homes. Then the attack. Maybe she can do some healing of her own now."  
  
He had never mentioned that. Calleigh clearly remembered the first night of the case, how he had talked about the results of the background search, but he hadn't mentioned Lisa, only Sam. Probably, being Horatio, he had respected Lisa's privacy enough not to mention it when it wasn't relevant to anything. It was Sam, the puzzle piece that didn't fit, the partner who paid for everything, whom he had discussed with Calleigh all that evening.  
  
Alexx reappeared bearing cookies. "There you are. Can't stand to stop working, can you?"  
  
"Just have one more sample to run on this case," said Horatio. "And I'm sure it will match."  
  
"Be sure you get some of these." She put a plate on the corner of the table, not anywhere close to the hair he was working with. "I took some out for Speed, too. Eric's making good inroads on the rest. Have another one, Calleigh." She divided a smile evenly between them. "I'm going back down to the morgue to finish up a little paperwork of my own, and then I'm out of here. You two remember lunch tomorrow, though."  
  
"We're looking forward to it," said Horatio. Alexx left them, and Calleigh picked up a cookie from the plate. She broke off a bite and stuck it in his mouth. "Thanks," he mumbled around the crumbs.  
  
She settled back against the table, watching him work, eating the cookies, feeding him a bite now and then. Her mind was still numb. Knowing Lisa's background suddenly recast the last week in a totally different light. Calleigh remembered her own initial reaction to Horatio, when she had first come to Miami. Such a contrast to her father that she had probably been caught gaping at him herself several times those first few weeks. After a while, constant exposure had helped her conceal the amazement, but it had never left her. She hadn't realized that much strength of character could be mixed with kindness. He was unbelievable, not even like a man at all but a different species she had never encountered before. In fact, wasn't she still having trouble convincing herself it was real? And Lisa, whose experience with men had been even more painfully violent than Calleigh's, how would she react on being faced for the first time with true compassion and gentleness from one? Suddenly, Calleigh totally understood Lisa. More, she identified with her.  
  
Her guilt came crashing back down again, and this time she understood why. She had misjudged Lisa, misinterpreted the evidence, and almost (thankfully almost) accused Horatio of something she was certain had never crossed his mind. He would never know what she had thought the night of the accident. Telling him in order to apologize would only open a wound that wasn't yet there. But Lisa was different. Lisa did know what Calleigh had thought, because Calleigh had made absolutely certain to hit her in the face with it.  
  
"Hey, beautiful." She looked up into Horatio's stunningly honest blue eyes. "What's on your mind?" She remembered him apologizing to Eric and Speed the morning of Sam's murder for thinking they had missed something at the first scene. She also remembered again that she had never once in her childhood heard a sincere apology from either of her parents for anything. Who did she want to be more like, Horatio or her father? She put down a half-eaten cookie.  
  
"Finish that one off, would you? Horatio, there's one thing I need to go do. I'll met you at home, okay? We'll have our Christmas tonight, but I've got to take care of something first."  
  
"I thought you already got my present."  
  
"Right, I did."  
  
"We can do whatever it is together, right after I finish this sample."  
  
"No. Please, Horatio, just meet me at home. I've got to do this alone, okay?"  
  
His eyes were puzzled but trusting. "Okay. See you there."  
  
"Thank you." She gave him a quick kiss and was gone, her heels clicking down the hall with determined purpose. She nearly mowed over Speed, exiting the elevator as she entered it. "Sorry," she said quickly, but she didn't break stride. He looked back, bewildered, as the elevator doors slid closed, then shrugged and headed into the lab to find Horatio in his usual spot.  
  
"H, what's up?"  
  
"Last piece of evidence on the case. Did you get some sleep?"  
  
"Slept like a log. I'll be up half the night now. Might as well get some work done."  
  
"No," said Horatio firmly. He pushed the plate over. "Have some cookies. Alexx made them."  
  
Speed complied. "Whatcha mean, no?" he asked with his mouth full.  
  
"None of us are working late tonight. It's Christmas, we've caught up, or close enough, and we haven't got any crucial cases open. Or won't have, when this sample matches." He snapped the analyzer shut and pushed the button. "If you'll be up half the night, you'll just have to spend it somewhere else."  
  
Eric came up behind them. "Hey, man, why don't you come over to the club with me? We might even find some girls."  
  
"What happened to Rose?" asked Speed.  
  
"Cindy. Rose was two weeks ago. Cindy decided she preferred somebody with a salary. I mean, a larger salary," he qualified, glancing at Horatio.  
  
"Don't you ever get tired of it, Eric?"  
  
"One of these days, I'll find the right one. Or at least, I'll have fun looking." He grinned at his friend. "Come on, Speed, come with me. You never know. You might meet someone tonight you've been waiting for all your life."  
  
"Yeah, right," snorted Speed.  
  
"A week ago, did you think you'd ever process a horse?" Horatio put in. "You never know what will happen."  
  
Speed looked from one to the other of them. "Well, if you're going to gang up on me, I guess I'll go."  
  
"Great," said Eric. He grabbed a cookie from the plate, and Speed quickly took the last two before they disappeared. "H, mind if we cut out of here early?"  
  
"Go ahead," said Horatio. The machine beeped behind him and spit out a piece of paper. He looked at it carefully and smiled. "Positive match to the one already in the system. We've got him."  
  
"Don't we always?" said Speed.  
  
"Of course. We're relentless." He grinned at Eric, who choked on his last bite of cookie. Speed whacked him on the back. "Enjoy your evening, gentlemen."  
  
"Later, H. Merry Christmas."  
  
"Merry Christmas," he called after them. He took the DNA report up to his office, put it in the case file, and finished the evidence log. He then stood up from his desk and walked over to the glass wall overlooking the labs. Mostly deserted labs, now. "We never close," he repeated to himself. "But once in a while, we do get to go home." He switched off the desk lamp and headed down the stairs, heading home to Calleigh.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh entered the barn tentatively, reluctantly, quite unlike her usual approach to anything. Lisa was down the aisle in front of Chrissy's stall, and she didn't hear her. The mare had her head over the stall door, and Lisa was speaking softly to her. Calleigh couldn't make out the words. They looked like two friends in a private conversation. Chrissy's ears were forward, focused on her owner, and she reached out suddenly and bumped her with her nose. Lisa reached up and wrapped both arms around the mare's neck, hugging her. Calleigh felt like she had walked into the middle of a sacred ceremony to which she was not an initiate. "Um, Lisa," she said.  
  
Lisa looked up quickly, as did Chrissy. "Mrs. Caine. Did you need something else on the case?" Calleigh saw the hesitation in the eyes again but realized this time that it wasn't guilt, just uncertainty around someone who hadn't given her a single kind word or thought over the entire past week. Kicking herself mentally, she walked down to join her.  
  
How did you apologize to someone? Calleigh hadn't had much practice. She thought of how Horatio had done it. "Lisa, I wanted to apologize to you. I never knew your background until today. I think I realize now what you were thinking that morning, but I misjudged you, and I'm sorry."  
  
Lisa relaxed a fraction, but her eyes were on the horse, not Calleigh. "I never thought of doing anything. I've just never met anybody like him. I didn't know they came like that."  
  
Calleigh smiled at her. "I know. My family background was pretty rough, too, and I think I must have gone around staring at him for the first few months I knew him." She reached out and touched the other woman's arm, and Lisa didn't pull away. "I really didn't know what had happened to you until this afternoon. I'm so sorry."  
  
"At least he's caught, now." Lisa reached back up and stroked Chrissy's neck again. "It was awesome, really. Chrissy half killed him." She looked at Calleigh now. "I'd decided I never wanted anything more to do with men. But your husband . . . that's what I was wondering, that morning, if there were any more out there like him."  
  
"You'll have a hard search," said Calleigh. "But don't ever settle for someone who doesn't respect you. Horatio's one of a kind, but there are good ones out there. And it's worth looking for." She remembered the other half of her mission. "I also didn't realize you didn't have any family left. Nobody should spend Christmas alone. I wanted to invite you to Christmas dinner tomorrow, if you don't have other plans." Alexx wouldn't mind, she was sure.  
  
Lisa gave her a genuine smile for the first time. It improved her looks tremendously. "Actually, I do. I'm having dinner tomorrow with Sam's family. And on Christmas Day, I'm meeting my new partner for dinner. I'm not just replacing Sam," she said quickly, "but this is too much work for one person. I've got to have someone to share it with."  
  
"I know." Calleigh looked up and down the aisle. Keeping all of this going would be even longer hours than CSI. "So you've found a new partner."  
  
"Yes. She's giving notice at her jobs today, and she'll be here in two weeks. I do have some part-time help coming in on the 26th to fill in until Emily gets here. So Christmas will be the last day I have to do it all alone. It'll take all day, especially taking time out for dinner, but a stable isn't a bad spot to spend Christmas." She looked up and down the aisle herself. Sam had died here. But Sam had also lived here. It was the living she would remember longer.  
  
"Well, I've got to get home to my own Christmas," said Calleigh. "I couldn't celebrate until I'd talk to you, though. I am sorry, for everything." She hugged Lisa, and Lisa hugged her back.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Caine. And thank your husband for me."  
  
"I will. Merry Christmas." Calleigh was humming as she left the barn. Now, with her conscience at rest, she could enjoy a whole evening with Horatio.  
  
***  
  
When Calleigh pulled her car into the driveway behind the Hummer, she realized that Horatio was still in the vehicle, just sitting there. He got out as she did and waited for her to come up to him. "What are you sitting out in the driveway for?" she asked, giving him a quick kiss.  
  
"I wanted to go in with you." Calleigh abruptly remembered his own Christmas experience, coming back to empty houses alone.  
  
"I'm sorry, Horatio. I didn't mean to make you come back here alone. I just had to do something first."  
  
He put his arm around her, and they started walking up the sidewalk. "You didn't make me come back here alone. We're going in together, aren't we? That's part of the celebration." He unlocked the door, and they went in together. "What was it you had to do?"  
  
"I wanted to talk to Lisa. I was going to invite her to Christmas dinner at Alexx's if she didn't have any other plans. I just hate the thought of anyone spending Christmas alone."  
  
He kissed her. "You're amazing, you know it? Did she have other plans?"  
  
"Actually she did. She's eating with Sam's family tomorrow and her new partner on Christmas. She said to tell you thanks for everything. And Horatio, you're the one who's amazing." She kissed him back, enjoying the solid reality of him.  
  
"We'll just have to be amazed together, then," he replied. "Come on, beautiful." He headed into the kitchen, and she followed him. They fixed dinner together in perfect harmony, their actions meshing seamlessly without explanation. He got out candles and lit them as she opened a bottle of wine. "Welcome to the rest of our lives," he said as they touched glasses gently, the pure tone ringing through the room. Calleigh gave a sigh of pure contentment. She didn't need wine; his eyes were intoxicating enough.  
  
After the meal, they went into the living room and turned out the lights, letting the candles and the Christmas tree illuminate the scene. They settled side by side on the couch with the two presents. "You first," she said, handing hers to him. He opened it carefully, releasing each seam of tape, saving the paper. "Horatio, how can anybody open a present like that? We don't have to reuse the paper."  
  
"Who said anything about reusing it?" He paused in his task long enough to smile at her. "I'm going to save it. This paper is precious. It held your first Christmas gift to me of our marriage." She reached out and brushed his cheek lightly with her fingers, just making sure, again, that he was real. She had never met anyone who could say such beautiful things so sincerely.  
  
He finished carefully unwrapping the present and opened the box, pulling out the black silk. His eyes met hers with a gleam in them. "I always did think you looked good in black."  
  
"So do you. We'll have to see each other with them - and without them - tonight." She slipped closer to him.  
  
"A little later, though."  
  
"Why later?"  
  
"You haven't opened your present yet." She looked down at the small package in her lap. She'd forgotten about her present. She opened it like she had never opened a present before, carefully, tenderly, like he had. She suddenly wanted to save the paper herself. She finished opening it and looked down at the book on her lap. Their Eyes Were Watching God. She had never heard of it.  
  
Horatio got up, retrieved a candle from the kitchen table, and returned to the couch. "This was one of my mother's favorite books. It's a love story, about a woman who goes through all sorts of things but finally finds her true soul mate." He set the candle on the end table next to her. "There's one passage marked. Read it."  
  
She noticed the marker for the first time, stuck between two pages almost at the end of the book. She opened the book and removed it. It was a popsicle stick. She smiled up at him and gently lay the popsicle stick on the table. She turned her attention back to the book, finding the few lines underlined. The dialect came easily to her, familiar from her childhood. "Don't say you'se ole. . . God made it so you spent yo' ole age first with somebody else, and saved up yo' young girl days to spend with me." She looked up at him startled, hearing the echo of her own thought a few nights ago. Had he heard her remark about growing young together, then? She had been sure he was sound asleep. No, he had bought this present before then, the night of the accident at the canal.  
  
Horatio slid closer to her on the couch, putting his arm around her. "That's how I feel about us, Calleigh. We've both been old before our time. But that means we still have our youth to spend together. God was just saving it up for us." No, he hadn't heard her, but it shouldn't surprise her that he saw, and felt, the same as she did. They were so alike. The perfect harmony finally found together. There had only been dissonance before him, but now, it was music. She looked at him in pure love. His eyes sparkled in the candle light. "Calleigh Caine," he said, savoring the name, "welcome to the first Christmas of the rest of our lives." She carefully put the book on the table and blew out the candle, then went to him willingly. And this time, it wasn't reassurance. This time, it was celebration. 


End file.
